


Hot, Lonely Singles In Your Area Looking for Love

by CaughtFeelings, Djaeka



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Accidental Genital Injury, Accidental Voyeurism, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Beads, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Awkward Boners, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Boss/Employee Relationship, Crack, Crack Relationships, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Domme Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Empath, Empathy, Episode: s01 Jackady | Simon Says, Episode: s02 Maledikteur | Malediktator, Episode: s02 Style Queen (Queen's Battle Part 1), Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Fluff and Crack, Food Kink, Gen, Gratuitous Smut, Handcuffs, Immature Themes, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Inappropriate Erections, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Master/Slave, Miraculous Ladybug Love Square, Original Akuma, Puberty, Rough Oral Sex, Scat, Sex Toys, Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Urethral Trauma, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vomiting, mature themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 28,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaughtFeelings/pseuds/CaughtFeelings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djaeka/pseuds/Djaeka
Summary: Hawkmoth reads the negative emotions of everyone in Paris. To his horror, a lot of them are about really, REALLY bad sex.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, André Bourgeois/Audrey Bourgeois, Emilie Agreste/Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Gabriel Agreste / Everyone, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth & Nooroo, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth & Original Akumatized Character(s), Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Nathalie Sancoeur, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Original Character(s), Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Reader
Comments: 227
Kudos: 260





	1. Are those dark wings in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me

“Explain to me once more, Nooroo, why I can’t use the butterfly miraculous to save my wife.”

“When you activate the brooch, you will be able to feel the strong emotions of anyone in Paris. You may use them to create your devoted servants, superheroes with the exact powers that you need to achieve your aims.”

“And you’re sure that I can’t simply create a hero that can save my wife immediately?”

Nooroo’s shoulders dropped as he shook his head sadly. “But we could advance modern medicine, or influence which hospitals receive grants, or manipulate time! It would have to be an indirect goal, and the hero would have to agree to your side project in addition to their own motivations.”

Gabriel frowned, brow furrowing deeply as he considered Nooroo’s words. The little creature’s voice had lifted slightly toward the end, as if trying to inject hope into a situation where none was to be found. He knew as well as Gabriel did that indirect goals would not do.

If he wanted to advance medicine, influence grants, and manipulate research, he’d have simply done it by now with the not-inconsiderable wealth at his disposal. 

But all his wealth had done nothing for him or his Emilie so far, and so alternative measures needed to be taken. _Indirect_ would not do. 

“Very well, Nooroo, let’s see what we’re working with. It’ll just be a cursory scan for now to establish a baseline. Nooroo, dark wings, rise!”

Hawkmoth understood immediately why Emilie had insisted on continuing to transform even as she grew sicker; the flood of power was intoxicating if only for the heightened senses. 

The smell of the air in the atrium he reserved for his research grew crisper, like the first day of true autumn. 

The sheen of the glass window threw subtle, sublime patterns across the white wings of the butterflies within it.

The whisper of their wings as they fluttered gave the effect of a library silent except for the turn of studious pages.

The light powder that fluttered off of the winged insects filled the air with a bitter effervescence, a reminder to **look, but don’t touch**. 

Finally, gloriously, touch, the memory of Emilie’s fingers threading through his, as she rose from her sarcophagus-

_-pushing warm, firm breasts against his chest and wrapping her legs around his waist as the quiet slap of sweat-slick flesh-_

Hawkmoth snapped out of the emotion in horror and disgust, and dropped his transformation.

“What was that?!?!?” he snapped to his Kwami, who blinked his giant, innocent eyes at him slowly.

“That’s called sex,” Nooroo explained, as patient as he had been with every other step of the tutorial. “Typically that’s how babies are conceived, but there’s other reasons to do it, too. I’m not surprised that’s the first strong emotion you Felt; it’s a common one.”

“Unacceptable,” Gabriel snapped, and Nooroo’s face fell; clearly, the Kwami had been expecting praise, and did not understand why he was being reprimanded. “This is an inappropriate emotion for me to use.”

Nooroo’s minute features moved from confusion and concern, melting into a nervously determined moue, a small nod causing his head to bob once.

“I’m sorry, master,” Nooroo said, eyes welling with tears before they were blinked away. “It’s the strongest one in Paris right now. I don’t want you to be a weak superhero.”

“I don’t want to be weak, either, but I also don’t want to be ridiculous! That’s clearly a private moment. Filter out the emotions of people who want privacy and do it again. Dark wings, rise.”

_I don’t even like this moron- I never bothered to learn their name for a reason- I just need to be seen going home with somebody hotter than my ex, and then let the rumor mill do its thing. Everybody hates watching their ex win the breakup, right? But he’s not even responding, I know that the story is getting back to him and I know exactly how poorly he takes bad news, this should have been more of a fireworks show, but there’s no point if I don’t get to watch it. And every single time it’s the same routine, “why don’t we come back to mine for coffee,” and then pants off as soon as the doors close. Well, fine. Have a butt dial. God knows I’ve faked enough orgasms for him when we’re together, time to put on my sultry voice and fake another one for him now that we’re not. But seriously, can’t tonight’s juiced-up, artificially engorged beefcake give me a little bit more to work with than this? I wonder whether those rumors about the more unfortunate side effects of performance enhancing steroids are true._

“Was that better?” Nooroo asked, when Gabriel detransformed.

“It was appalling,” Gabriel said flatly, and there was no point to Nooroo’s sadness and disappointment if he didn’t use it to improve himself for next time.

“I don’t understand,” Nooroo said, wings drooping and lower lip trembling as he tried to keep his composure. “She’s even thinking about putting it on the internet. And I doubt her partner would mind. He’s Feeling, and I quote, “ _Don’t care, got laid._ ””

Hawkmoth rubbed his eyes and forehead, trying to erase the image, but it was in his brain and not on his face and there it clung, like a thin film of someone else’s bodily fluids, put there incompetently.

“Let’s try this one more time,” he said. “Show me someone who’s experiencing a strong emotion and is _not currently having sex._ ”

“I don’t know if I can filter that specifically,” Nooroo said. “We can Feel the emotions, but we don’t know the specifics that are producing them until we make contact. But, if you want, we can keep shuffling through until we find someone that meets your criteria, like having a deck of cards and continuing to draw and discard until you find one that you like.”

For a brief, visceral moment, Gabriel wondered whether it was wiser to simply throw a massive amount of money at Jalil Kubdel, to try to help him translate that Egyptian exhibit that had caught his eye.

But then he sighed. “Fine,” he told Nooroo. “Let’s try that.”

“I think I have a promising lead,” Nooroo said, and pursed his lips together as if to stop his bottom one from trembling. “I have a man in the park who really loves his pigeons.”

A beat.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“His supersuit can be a onesie with no ability to take off or unzip his pants.”

“When you mean _loves_ his pigeons, do you mean…?”

“Non-sexually.”

“Done.”


	2. I need your Miraculous! Give it to me, baby! Give it to me, right now!

_ A vagina is not an Escher painting. It is Euclidean. You can get a pretty good understanding of its shape and properties if you touch it. But he didn't, did he? Putting on a condom isn't foreplay. My vagina is tight because I am not turned on. I am not wet because I am only passingly interested in you. You are quickly convincing me that you are the human Sham-Wow of vaginas. With lube and attention we could have still made this work, but you are a moron. Your dick is hitting me at a 45 degree angle. You are not hitting my cervix. That is the back wall of my vagina, and if we twisted a little bit, I might be able to hit somewhere near my g spot, but as it is, it's just weird. Can't I at least get on top and fuck myself on you? Is this fun for you? Is this comfortable? Don’t you notice this is weird? _

“You’re right, random woman,” Gabriel muttered, as the detransformation light washed back over him. “This is weird. I’m so sorry.”

It was Gabriel’s artistic mind that offered the many versatile possibilities of the Butterfly Miraculous, and gave him the motivation to keep going- even though, every time he transformed, he was subjected to the new, pornographic soundtrack of his life. At least when birds woke him up at some hellacious hour of the morning with their mating calls, they kept their opinions about their partners to themselves.

Unbidden, Gabriel had a mental image of dozens of pigeons loudly complaining about Mr. Ramier, and resolved to put up anti-pigeon spikes in a perimeter around his home.

“It’s not possible mine was the only sexually fulfilling marriage in Paris,” he told Nooroo, after Akumatizing another child who was under the age of consent, and whose opinions about sex were, mercifully, only conjecture at this point.

It was unfair to accuse Nooroo’s unreadable expression of translating as “are you sure about that?” without good reason.

“I think it has to do with being a supervillain,” Nooroo said, eventually. “I’m used to working with superheroes- they have access to the full range of strong emotions in their immediate areas. But as a supervillain, you’re only attracting the negative emotions. If you were to be a hero, though-”

Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. “If I cannot Akumatize someone to save Emilie, I must Akumatize someone to steal the Miraculouses. Ladybug and Chat Noir will not give them to me willingly.”

“Well, you did start off by threatening them,” Nooroo offered, shoulders rounded submissively but head up in hope. “They seem like reasonable people. Maybe they would listen to you if you tried to talk to them?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to them!” Gabriel snapped. “My motivations are private! They need to just  _ give them to me-” _

Gabriel was not transformed, and was not expecting the raw  _ need _ to hit him mid-sentence.

_ “Give it to me!” she screamed, her head thrashing from side to side, failing to dislodge the blindfold. “Oh my god I want you, stop teasing me and put it in me! I want to feel full of you! Ravish me, violate me, stop using your fucking fingers, I need your dick and I need it right now-” _

_ Five minutes ago, this would have been blissful. Unfortunately, it had been his dick inside her for quite some time now. _

_ “I asked you to ask for it nicely,” he murmured, trying to figure out how to bend her legs and back to make her feel more full, but the unintentional hurt was making him lose his erection. _

Gabriel swallowed.

“I wasn’t looking for an Akuma,” he told Nooroo shakily. “Why did I Feel that?”

“Like I said,” Nooroo said, “Strong emotions will find you, so that you know in advance when you can transform. Otherwise, you might be transformed, and not be able to find anything.”

Gabriel looked at the smooth glass of the window of his office, where he could just barely see his reflection against the dark evening sky.

“How do I turn it off?” he breathed.

Nooroo shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, “this is how the Miraculous works. The only way to stop receiving these Transmissions is to renounce the Miraculous.”

Gabriel thought again about the trip back to Tibet, to find the other Miraculous and the indecipherable grimoire at the temple where Emilie had found the Peacock, the money spent attempting to translate the book, the likelihood that he might find a third Miraculous in the temple after the days spent finding the second, and sighed, resolute.

“We’re just going to have to make sure the next Akuma Ladybug and Chat Noir fights, wins,” he said.


	3. That Career Looks Very Fashionable On You (But Better On the Bedroom Floor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel Brand is no place for sexual shenanigans.

The constant “ngh, ngh, ngh" in Gabriel's brain was starting to translate into a chronic, low-level migraine, bouncing against his skull relentlessly like inconsiderate upstairs neighbors, against whom he could not send Officer Rainconprix for a noise complaint. He hated it, he loathed it, and he found himself snapping at his employees in the sheer lack of patience left.

"Are you familiar with the concept of a deadline?" he found himself snapping at a junior designer, heavy bags under his eyes betraying an absurdly long stint of sleepless nights, who had burst in to interrupt a video call with Audrey Bourgeois. Gabriel resolved to check security footage to confirm that he had been both at the office and working, to contribute to his exhaustion, and not joining his pelvic voice to Paris's mattress spring orchestra.

"Yes sir," he quailed, sliding a folder of his finished designs onto his desk. Gabriel stared at it for a moment, then picked it up and, gingerly, placed it in the trash.

"But sir!" The junior designer attempted, but Gabriel had been thinking about butts far more than he wanted to recently and had no further interest in them.

“The deadline was midnight for a reason," he explained with the very last of his patience. "My dear Audrey- who you are rudely interrupting, even though you are not more important than her- needed your portfolio by 6 PM Eastern Standard Time. The board has already made their decisions. You are too late."

"But that's not far!" the soon to be ex designer interjected.” I tried to turn them in yesterday and you said they weren't ready. You said to take the time I needed-"

"I said you had until 11 PM to turn them in for feedback, and midnight to make the cutoff," Gabriel snapped. "And that if you were not ready by then, you were invited to try again next autumn, an offer I have generously provided to all of my designers in good standing, a group in which you may no longer count yourself a part. You dare put words in my mouth-"

_Rough hands on the back of his head, shoving him forward, and something fat, warm, and **salty** shoved into his mouth, ramming into the back of his throat and making him cough. Oh no, I wasn't ready, he panicked, and he tried to push his lover back, hands on his hips, but he continued to thrust relentlessly into his mouth as he coughed again, fighting the rising bile. Fight it. You want this, you want him, you told him to fuck your mouth and he's just doing what you begged him to- _

_it was the vertigo, and not the man meat like a battering ram against his gag reflex, that made him throw up three glasses of wine, dinner, and a double scoop of Andre's ice cream all over his lover's cock, balls, stomach, and legs._

The moment passed.

The designer in front of him quivered.

On the tablet in front of him, Audrey stared uncomprehendingly.

“Get out,” Gabriel told the junior designer, and he ran.

“Excuse me,” Gabriel told Audrey, standing.

“What’s going on?” Audrey asked, frowning. “You look like you swallowed something foul.”

“I apologize, Audrey my dear,” he said, clearing his throat and attempting to regain his composure. “I am suddenly not feeling well. Nathalie will be in contact with you to reschedule.”

Audrey rolled her eyes. “My time is valuable,” she huffed. “Get it taken care of. Healthcare is free, in France, for goodness’s sake; you’d still be able to afford it if I fired you.”

Gabriel smiled faintly, nodded his head, turned off the tablet, and left the room.

He was expressionless as he hailed his driver, was driven home, and walked calmly to his office. The door locked, the deadbolt was secured.

Gabriel took a moment to have a deep breath, and re-acquaint his mouth with tastes other than penis and vomit. The taste lingered faintly, so he walked to the mini bar, where he took out a decanter and high-ball glass, and poured himself a stiff drink. He capped the decanter, then picked it up, considering.

Both glass and decanter were carried to the only chair in the room, where he sat heavily, eyes wide, and stared at the glass of vodka. To sanitize.

Atop the decanter, Nooroo sat, a worried expression as he watched him.

“Kwamis don't have genitals," he tried, eventually, "but I like to think that Transmission has a decent understanding of why people feel the ways they do. Better than anyone except perhaps Emotion. A lot of people find sex fun; it's one of the other reasons people do it besides the babies we talked about. If you’re not having fun, maybe you should retire."

From that point forward, if Gabriel could find an excuse to teleconference instead of appearing in person, he took it.


	4. It Would Be Amazing For Your Career To Have You On My Staff

_"They're massive, she said, turning his left hand over in hers, kissing each fingertip delicately. She was breathing quickly- aroused, but also fear? That was no good. He would never harm her._

_"Nothing you don't want," he murmured, leaning her back against him, her back to his stomach, and she moaned, reaching her hand behind her back to where his pants started to bulge against her, sizing him up. Her other hand, manipulating which of his fingertips she kissed, drove one of his fingers deeply into her mouth, and he gasped, his pants suddenly far tighter than they had been minutes ago._

_"I want you, he whispered into her ear. "Are you ready?"_

_She nodded, whimpering._

_His right hand wandered lower from where it had held her waist, easing her skirt up slowly, until just the edge of her underwear showed. He rubbed her fingers along her, gently, loving the way her heat had absorbed through the thin cotton._

_"Stop teasing me," she hissed._

_He nudged them to the side, exposing soft curls, and gently, slowly, pushed a finger inside her._

_She was slick, and tight, and clenched down on him immediately, and her whimper was the sweetest thing he had ever heard._

_He fucked her slowly, peppering her face with kisses, his thumb against her clitoris, his other hand kneading gently at her breasts, her hips, grinding against her butt as she made those beautiful, needy noises-_

_"No," she gasped suddenly, "No, stop."_

_He took his hand out of her immediately, both arms wrapping around her, protective, loving, contrite._

_"I'm sorry," he said, "it's a lot. Thank you for telling me. If you want to continue, we’ll warm you up a little more first.”_

_“It's not that,” she said, and held up his right hand, the finger still sticky with her._

_Decades of surveying chaotic situations for any possible threat found the offender immediately- he had clipped his nails instead of filing them, and there was a single, sharp point._

Gabriel wasn't sure how much of that Nathalie had observed, standing silently in front of him, eyes and stance perfectly neutral but absolutely withering judgement observable through the Butterfly Miraculous. He was afraid to ask.

"I’m busy." he snapped, but she was resolute.

"You are not," she said. "Your 10:00 ended prematurely at 10:17 when you hung up the phone on an important distributor, stating you had another call in. You did not. You do not have another meeting until 1. We had cleared your schedule over lunch today so that you could go to Adrien's piano recital, but you cancelled, citing urgent business. He looked devastated, by the way. Your tablet has not been booted up for design work today. This is not a flash of inspiration for next season’s line. You are hiding a problem, and you are not hiding it well.”

 _I’m worried about you,_ she did not say.

Gabriel sighed. "Urgent, confidential matters demand my time elsewhere."

Nathalie turned, and he hoped she was leaving, but instead she closed the door, locked it, _and she was on her in an instant, hands, mouth, hips grinding against hers and pushing her up against the door. She threw her head back in raw, obscene passion, as her girlfriend swiftly undid the buttons of her shirt and unhooked the front clasp of her bra with a speed only born of practice and devotion._

_She hadn’t noticed that the hair she had spent so long carefully sculpting into perfect beachy waves tangled on the mechanism of the hotel room door, until she tried to lean forward._

_She screamed in pain, and the sudden, unexpected noise startled her girlfriend, and she bit down on her nipple far harder than she wanted to. She screamed again, and started to cry._

The empathic vision faded.

Gabriel blinked, horrified, reacquainting himself with his office, and realized that the judgement he had read from Nathalie had melted into pity.

“I had worried about that." she said quietly. "It’s common, for artists, to struggle with substance abuse. Let's get you to a treatment center, there are some very discreet, comfortable ones that will impact your career as little as possible. We'll tell Adrien you went back to Tibet. Losing Emilie has been as hard on him as it has been on you. Don't make him lose his father so soon after he’s lost his mother.”

_I would let Gabriel brand go up in flames if that’s what it takes to make sure that the designer gets the care he needs to overcome his substance addiction, but I’d rather not. It’s getting so bad the investors and designers murmuring, but Gabriel looks reasonably rational and coherent; there’s still time to save him._

After months of empathic interruptions about touching genitals, his assistant's genuine, selfless concern touched Gabriel's heart.

"This goes beyond your role as assistant," he said quietly. "I need to know if I can count on your confidentiality."

_That’s promising. The first step to addressing a problem is admitting that you have it._

"I'm a professional," Nathalie said. "If there are secrets that can negatively affect this company, I need to know about them so that I can steer prying eyes away from them. If there is a public relations disaster, I need to know about it so that I can mitigate it."

There was no going back from this moment, but Gabriel was emotionally exhausted and needed a human when he could confide.

"I have a secret friend," he said, "who has been interrupting me with inappropriate feelings as I am responding to the disappearance of my wife-"

 _He's a sex addict_ , felt Nathalie in abject horror, though her expression remained neutral.

“Wait, no, I phrased that poorly," Gabriel interjected, attempting to reassure her. "His name is Nooroo-"

_Oh my God he named it_

"No, you misunderstand, let me show you, Nooroo come out-“

_I do not want to see your penis, monsieur Agreste-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, “Daddy,” is the last porn for a while until we start getting some fluff. I may need more than the two days to warm up for it. It’ll be worth the wait, I promise, my dear, pervy, readers. :-*  
> -CF
> 
> Note edited later: apparently the porn just got more horrifying from here...? Dear internet, I don't even know. -CF


	5. Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Adrien,
> 
> I’m so sorry.

_“There is nothing wrong with us as parents,” he murmured to his partner, squeezing the hand in his own gently in reassurance. He could feel the tension seeping out of him, finding genuine comfort in the small gesture._

_“I just can’t help but feel like this is our fault. It has to be.”_

_He stared down at their joined hands, taking a deep breath before continuing the thought._

_“None of the other students in this class are stripping and running down the hallway. They’re not being belligerent to their teacher intentionally. Our son is five, too old for this kind of behavior.”_

_“Don’t punish yourself for something that isn’t your fault,” his husband murmured. He turned, a small smile on his face accompanying the wink. “There will be plenty of time for me to punish you for the things you have done later.”_

_He laughed quietly, blushing heavily. He pushed gently on his husband’s shoulder to direct him down the hall to the kindergarten room at the end._

_“Let’s just get through the parent-teacher conference, find out how to help our son, and get a solid plan to start the process.”_

_The teacher sat in her chair, resolutely squeezing what looked to be a banana shaped stress ball when the couple walked in._

_He couldn’t blame her. The behavioral concerns their son was exhibiting were beyond what she was capable of handling effectively when there were twenty other children to deal with at the same time._

_He’d hoped that she would be much more cheery, given the message she’d sent that announced a solution to their concerns had been found. But the woman’s face was steely and the violent twist she gave the banana caused him to gulp nervously._

_She welcomed them stiffly before gesturing to the set of small chairs around a curved table. The woman sank into a regular sized chair, leaving the two of them to choose between the remaining seats. His husband dropped into the tiny, kindergarten sized seat and left the only other option. A lime green seat with a ball on the underside._

_He immediately had to stick a foot out to keep from toppling over in front of his son’s teacher._

_She waited for him to stabilize before addressing them both._

_“The good news is, it is not ADHD, or autism, or any of the things that we were concerned about earlier.”_

_“You don’t know that,” his husband interjected. “Our son is a good kid. He isn’t like this at home. Something about being at school is so stressful for him, something is triggering him to act like this. I don’t care if the school psychologist-“_

_“Social emotional counselor.”_

_A deep sigh._

_“I don’t care what the social emotional counselor says, something is wrong. I’m begging you, please have him tested again.”_

_The woman dropped her head to her hands on top of the desk, massaging her temples. Both men glanced at each other, frightened and desperate. They grasped at each other’s hands and prepared for the worst._

_When she raised her head, the teacher looked in their direction but refused to meet the eyes of either parent._

_“We’ve found the trigger. Personally, I wish it was still a mystery.”_

_“Is he being bullied?” he asked, quietly reflecting on his own experiences in maternelle. They hadn’t been as bad as elementaire, but they hadn’t been good experiences either._

_“No! No, it’s nothing like that,” she rushed to reassure them. “He has excellent relationships with the other children in class.”_

_He watched as she squeezed the banana tightly once more._

_“Your child has a solid grasp of when they are being good or being bad. And he has an understanding that punishment follows bad behavior.”_

_She glanced between the two men, still refusing to meet their eyes._

_“He...he is misbehaving in order to force someone to punish him.”_

_“That doesn’t make any sense, what child wants to be punished?”_

_“Well, evidently when-“ She cleared her throat, “Someone at home is being bad, they are punished by being spanked by Daddy. And when this someone is being punished, they seem to be enjoying it very very much. So your son is hoping to experience that same punishment and all the perceived enjoyment it brings.”_

_Silence filled the room. He’d never believed the statement that you could physically cut tension was anything more than exaggeration, but that moment proved otherwise. Apparently you could cut shame with a knife too._

_“I’m sorry, are you saying-“ his husband, ever the proactive partner, tried to clarify._

_“I’m saying that your bedroom activities have been observed by your son and he is acting out so he can be spanked by his daddy.”_

_His head dropped into his hands and a loud groan that had nothing to do with pleasure left his mouth._

* * *

“You look something that approaches hopeful, sir,” Nathalie said.

Gabriel caught her wondering whether she should say anything at all, but vastly preferring that he was secretly the supervillain sending Akumas out to rampage across Paris, given that her option was trying to track down anyone in Paris at all qualified to handle an HR complaint.

“This one, at least, was not mid-coitus,” Gabriel remarked, while dealing with his own Strong Emotions and deeply grateful that there were no other empaths in town to observe how deeply uncomfortable he was. “And the child was impressively misbehaving. I am seriously considering surrendering my Miraculous to him, in the hope that Nooroo would have a better understanding of what is and is not appropriate to expose to small children.”

“Excuse me?” Nooroo interrupted shyly.

“This had better be good,” Gabriel snapped at the cringing, crying, bane of his existence and only lifeline to revive his wife.

“It’s a little hard for me,” Nooroo said, poking his front paws together as if they were two pointers. “I’m immortal, you see. So all mortals have extremely short life spans, to my perspective. Aren’t you still a child too?”

The book Gabriel had been holding was slammed down on his desk. “I am clearly an adult,” he snapped. “I am a very important, very intelligent man, with a child of my own. How could you possibly have thought I was a child?”

“I’m sorry, Master,” Nooroo said, the picture of genuine confusion. “You see, I don’t see many humans any more, so I tend to get their ages confused by looking at them. I typically go off their behavior, and if you’re not a child, why are you behaving like one?”

Nathalie sighed, and pulled up Gabriel’s calendar, to start massaging his appointments slightly later to give him time to regain his composure.

* * *

"I think it's broken," Adrien whispered, blushing Ladybug red and rolling his shoulders as if to physically shrink into himself as much as possible. He wasn't talking about cheese, which was disappointing, but at least he wasn’t sighing morosely at Ladybug, which was enough to pique his interest.

“Okay,” Plagg said, floating over. “What's broken?'

Adrien’s eyes fell into his lap, and Plagg had a moment of genuine concern- how bad did it have to be, if Adrien wouldn't talk to him about it?- before chance made him glance down at Adrien's lap, where the source of Adrien’s misery was suddenly, horrifyingly obvious to everyone present, given that Adrien was fourteen, going through puberty, and this is a story about sexual awkwardness.

(It was a boner. Adrien Agreste’s penis was engorged with blood as if to prepare itself for sex.)

Plagg was a manifestation of an abstract concept and not a mammal, and did not need to breathe, and could laugh longer and harder than any human could without devolving into a coughing, wheezing mess.

"It doesn't make any sense, Plagg," Adrien mumbled, eyes downcast.

You're spending so much time rubbing up against Ladybug’s body in fights that you've trained it," Plagg said, starting to cry a little with mirth.

"Is that how it works?” Adrien asked, helplessly, trying his best to think un-sexy thoughts. “I thought it was because I was just thinking about her, all the time, and I tried to stop, but now it’s happening when I’m not thinking about her at all, at least not consciously.”

“Kid, how the hell am I supposed to teach you how human anatomy works? Do you think I pay attention to that?”

Adrien took a moment to consider having this conversation with his father.

Realizing just how badly it could go, he looked for options. Unfortunately, his Rolodex of male confidants was absurdly small, a consequence of a small social circle full of odd people, and while he trusted everyone from Nino to his other classmates to Vincent the photographer, this really was a conversation that he should have with a parent.

This was why Adrien found himself nervously standing outside his father's door, wishing that he was the half of Paris's superhero team that was the strategist, but deeply grateful that Ladybug had no reason to be present at this particular moment in his life.

His father must have finished whatever his urgent, unscheduled phone call was, because Nathalie came to the door and showed him in.

"Thank you for making time for me, father-" Adrien began, but Gabriel stared at him in shock.

"But you’re still a child," he said, under his breath. “I wasn't ready for this moment. When did you grow up?"

"I really wasn't ready for it either," Adrien said, wondering how his father was reading his mind. 

Father and son had the third most awkward conversation of their lives.

Things were uncomfortable between them for a long time, and Adrien couldn’t help but get the impression that his father was avoiding him.

* * *

There was nothing arousing about the photo shoot that, thankfully, ended up just being a head shot.

There was nothing arousing about Mme. Mendeliev’s science lesson.

There was nothing arousing about the round of Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 that he played vs the computer.

There was no correlation between what Adrien’s pubescent body was doing and what he was feeling at any given time.

But, when he caught a glimpse of his father picking his head up from his hands, to stand and go back to designing, and the unusual shape his father’s iconic red pants had today, he smiled to himself.

Bodies were strange, and even if he didn’t have many ways to bond with his father, at least they could share this.


	6. Pure Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a moment, Hawkmoth thought that his journey was finally over, and the woman had the Miraculouses of the Ladybug and Cat in her hand.
> 
> Too late, he realized they were actually a pair of red nipple piercings and a black cock ring.

_She was beginning to suspect that her mentor had more fun friends than she did, because this was definitely not the “multiple bachelorette parties per week, fun and naughty way to make several thousand euros on the side” lifestyle that she had been told it would be._

_That was the point, she knew. These parties were supposed to empower women to get out of their comfort zones and pursue a more playful and active time with their significant others; every guest at a party was a potential future host, or, even better, a potential downline. If she was funny, if she was charming, she could sell more products, book more parties to sell more products, and hire more people to book more parties to sell more products._

_Being a CEO was exhausting, she had known that from the beginning- but it was worth it, to be her own boss, to be able to work from her phone to spend more time with her family, and if she could just believe hard enough, hustle hard enough, surely she would be able to manifest hard enough for her dreams to come true._

_The really daunting thing was not being able to tell, a week after the fact, which was the fake contact information her guests had put on the clipboard to avoid being contacted again, or the fake contact information she had put there herself to make it seem like she was booking more parties and attracting more people than she actually was._

_She saw the butterfly going for her clipboard. She just didn’t care._

_I AM HAWKMOTH, she heard, in the back of her mind. I KNOW YOUR STRUGGLE ALL TOO WELL- YOU ARE DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT, AND YET THE SUCCESS YOU DESERVE AND HAVE EARNED MANY TIMES OVER ELUDES YOU. I WILL GIVE YOU THE POWER TO RECRUIT ALL OF PARIS, WITH EACH MINION YOU RECRUIT BEING ABLE TO RECRUIT EVEN MORE PEOPLE TO WORK FOR YOU, AND TOGETHER, YOU WILL BE ABLE TO SELL… ERM, WHAT WAS THAT?_

_“Dildos,” she supplied helpfully._

_DILDOS?_

_“And vibrators. And lube. Anal plugs, anal beads, BDSM gear, lingerie, edible panties…”_

_She didn’t have to see his face; she could feel the horror and awkwardness, and if she hadn’t just come from two hours of her only remaining friends showing her the exact same emotions, what Hawkmoth thought about her business would have mattered a little less._

_I’M NOT SURE I CAN HELP YOU, he said, eventually._

_She was disappointed, but her upline had told her exactly how to handle “no”- that it didn’t actually mean “no,” it meant “maybe.”_

_“It’s a lot of fun,” she launched into her speech, “and it gets you away from your spouse and kids several nights a week-”_

_THANK YOU BUT NO-_

_“- it’s incredibly empowering-”_

_I AM LITERALLY HAWKMOTH, I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT EMPOWERING AND THIS IS NOT IT-_

_“-have you considered what a few thousand euros on the side could mean for your family?-”_

_I AM NOT EXAGGERATING WHEN I SAY I HAVE SO MUCH MONEY I HAVE RUN OUT OF IDEAS WHAT TO DO WITH IT-_

_“If you sign up, I can get you my distributors’ discount, and I’m authorized to give you 50 EUR in toys or accessories for free if you’re interested in booking a party with me…”_

* * *

It had been three days.

Three days since the last time someone had sneezed at precisely the same moment their partner ejaculated into their mouths, getting semen into their sinuses and giving them a sinus infection.

Three days since someone had slipped in the shower, landing on their partner’s penis strangely and injuring the poor man.

Three says since the last time someone had confused oral and vaginal lubes and given themselves or their partners a yeast infection.

Three days since a nervous teenager had taken the words “blow job” literally and tried to inflate their partner’s penis like a balloon.

Gabriel did not for a moment believe that the City of Love had finally lived up to its moniker and learned to have sex that wasn’t horrifying. Something unseen was brewing, and it was setting him on edge.

Nooroo’s “Excuse me, master?” was the beginning of the end.

He leveled his Kwami with his most withering glare- he practiced them for designers, not Kwamis, but intimidation was mostly a learnable skill and he was an expert- and waited for Nooroo to speak.

They waited for a moment, before Nooroo realized it was still his turn.

“Oh! Thank you. Um. Well. You seem to be getting very frustrated with the Butterfly Miraculous-”

Gabriel made a noise that was partially assent, partially astonishment at the understatement, partially derision, and partially trauma. He didn’t have to unpack the degrees to which it was each; Nooroo would understand.

“Oh...um, okay. Well. Ahem. I was wondering. _Why are you still using it?_ ”

Gabriel sighed, turning to face the portrait of Emilie. “I love my wife,” he said, quietly. “Everyone says that a world without their spouses is not worth living in, that they would change the world for their spouses’ sake. Anyone would do this. I just have the means to make it possible. Giving up on this means giving up on her.”

The memory hit Gabriel viscerally, and he let himself feel it fully for the first time since Emilie had disappeared, hoping Nooroo would understand.

_All his memories of Emilie felt soft. They all seemed to have that lack of edge to them, as if her presence alone smoothed the sharpness of life like the sea washing a stone._

_She made each moment feel bright, almost blinding in clarity, but velvet against his mind._

_She was made of featherlight brushes of fingertips._

_The whisper of silken skin against his own._

_The murmur of words spoken in hushed tones._

_Sunlight through windows on slow mornings._

_She was never weak, and never frail, but always soft._

He turned from the portrait, to face his kwami, a small smile on his face.

Nooroo’s eyes were shiny with un-shed tears.

“That was beautiful,” he said.

“She is beautiful,” he agreed. “Not just her face. All of her.”

“You’re doing this for her?”

“I would do anything, for her.”

Nooroo smiled genuinely for the first time since Gabriel had met him. “I think I understand,” he said. “I can work with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to Remasa, for the setup in the summary


	7. You’d Warm Up Faster If You Took Your Clothes Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if the rest of Paris is having awful sexual emotions, Gabriel will always have his memories of sweet Emilie. The Miraculous couldn’t possibly ruin that.

Emilie’s slow, deep breaths fanned across his face. It was steady and gentle and he smiled in the half-doze he’d been drifting in.

His body floated in a pool of warmth, waking him steadily to the feeling of his wife wrapped around him. He leaned into her form.

_Just a few more minutes, and then I’ll get up,_ he promised himself.

He knew even without looking that a sleepy smile to match his own would be spreading across Emilie’s face. It always did when he snuggled closer to her.

She liked that he didn’t stand on ceremony while in their private moments. Propriety was pushed aside and the moments they spent here in their room were theirs alone.

He’d tease her later, he decided, as his mind came further out of slumber. Emilie slept like an overly affectionate kitten. Her limbs were stretched out to take up as much space as humanly possible, tangling irreversibly with his own and tying them into knots they’d never really want to untangle.

When he teased her later, he’d have to hide the smirk that slipped onto his face when she would pout and wrinkle her nose at him. Her foot always twitched like she was suppressing the urge to stomp like a frustrated child.

But for the moment, he got to enjoy the rising sun and his wife each heating his body in their own unique ways.

He leaned down to place a gentle kiss to the crown of her golden head, messy with sleep and their previous night’s activities.

As if reading his mind, Emilie pressed her body close to his, tilting her head to catch his lips in a soft kiss. The smile that had started the moment he woke to the love of his life widened, causing the kiss to break and his wife to chuckle.

A hand raised to his chest, pressing into the muscle underneath. He caught Emilie’s hand in his own.

Rolling to his back, he brought her body with him. Her thighs slid along his own in a slow, deliberate motion until she straddled his lap, never allowing her eyes to leave his own.

He rested his hands on Emilie’s hips, closed his eyes, and allowed her to set the pace of the morning.

But frowned when her movements became much less deliberate than moments before.

And her noises much more _pornographic_ than usual.

His eyes flitted open, mouth drawn into a severe frown.

_My dick is not a kitten._

_I know you're rubbing yourself on it, and I know you're having a good time because you're squeezing your breasts and moaning, and god your expression is delicious- but why aren't you thrusting?_

_You’re just sitting there on it. I have to, like, rest my weight on my shoulders and ankles and thrust upwards on you. I am absolutely not swole enough for the Devil's push-ups._

_Can’t I just get on top so I can rail you properly?_

He didn’t wake screaming, because that would absolutely not be appropriate for a man of his stature. But the strangled yelp that left his throat would be understandable given the whiplash he’d just experienced.

“Nooroo!”

“Nooroo, what the _hell_ did you just do?”

The kwami drifted in front of Gabriel’s face. He was sure the glare he fixed on his kwami was formidable, but it was hard to tell with how frequently Nooroo cowered in his presence anyway.

“Do?” Nooroo wrung his little hands in front of him, projecting only confusion and distress.

Gabriel snapped. “Yes! What did you _do_ that I am now experiencing these disgusting emotions in my sleep? While dreaming of my _wife?_ ”

Nooroo’s tiny shoulders relaxed, seeming to gain a handle on himself now that the source of Gabriel’s irritation was clear to him.

“I thought I mentioned that before.” Big eyes blinked innocently up at him. “Your powers get stronger as you use them.”

“But why are they interfering with thoughts of my _wife_ , Nooroo?” Gabriel growled, allowing a hint of teeth into his pained grimace.

“Oh. Well that’s probably just because human minds make connections. You’re accepting the miraculous into your everyday life!”

The sounds that left him were _definitely_ not appropriate for a man of his stature.


	8. If You Are What You Eat, I Could Be You By Morning

The growing desperation for a measure of peace was beginning to wear on him. Every action he took was torture and nothing seemed safe.

Meals with Adrien had been common at one time, a way for Gabriel to see his son once or twice a day before rushing off to work in his atelier. For a time, he had to discontinue the habit.

It just hurt too much sometimes to see the boy’s golden head and sunny disposition. He was so like his mother.

But he knew it was foolish to try, even as he contemplated starting the habit of meals together once more, slowly sipping his orange juice and mindlessly scanning work documents.

He glanced down into the cup. He couldn’t guarantee himself any peace and Adrien didn’t need to know what flashed through his mind at any given moment.

_The woman in front of him smirked, a foot trailing up his leg toward the inside of his thigh. She moved her own glass to the side after draining it in one smooth motion._

_She shuffled forward, dropping to her knees in front of him and continuing the stroking motion her foot had started. When she reached the buckle of his pants, she popped it open with a silky ease._

_He leaned into her touch as she rose to kiss him while removing his trousers. Dropping back to the floor with a satisfaction bordering on smug and taking the head of him into her mouth. He groaned and leaned his head back on the chair._

_She reached a hand up, using it to help her tease and arouse him. His eyes fluttered back open at a particularly forceful suck, and he gasped for air watching his partner give him a sinful little smile around his cock._

_Burying his fingers in her long hair, he tugged gently at the strands and growled at the tiny moans she made in response. He pressed at the back of her head, a subtle encouragement to do more, go deeper._

_After pulling back for a moment, taunting him, she leaned forward once more, taking him deep into her throat._

_Leaning back in the seat once more to enjoy the sensations was a mistake. He missed the signs of her taking him a little too far and choking just slightly._

_By the time he realized that her throat was working something **up** and not simply swallowing around him it was too late to stop what was happening. He leaned forward to pull her off as she brought her hands up to her mouth, a vain attempt to stop the meal they’d just shared from coming back up._

_And then he screamed in agony as she vomited, his dick still in her mouth, and forced a mixture of bile and orange juice directly into his urethra._

* * *

Gabriel’s glass shattered as he dropped it to the floor. He completely ignored the broken article, shoved his chair back violently, and stalked out of the room with his designing tablet in hand.

Nooroo’s quiet voice drifted out of his cravat.

“Master? If you didn’t like the meal, I’m sure your chefs could prepare you a new one.” The quiet, helpful voice only caused him to grit his teeth in an attempt not to lash out at the necessary little creature.

“I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going out to the garden to design. I think better out there.” His words were sharp, and clipped, but it didn’t matter. Nooroo would know how much he was holding back. He should appreciate the effort Gabriel was going to for him in this instance.

Settling himself on Emilie’s favorite bench, Gabriel began to sketch jagged lines and heavy shades for every blouse and suit jacket that came to mind. The end result was terrible, more suited to a rebellious teenager with ripped jeans than his high end clientele, but the action was soothing.

No one bothered him while he worked, having long established that this location was one that he would not tolerate an interruption in. When the lines of his drawings became smoother and less violently etched on the device, Nooroo dared to flit to his shoulder.

Gabriel glanced around to ensure they were alone, but the concern was low. The butterfly bush Emilie had planted was nearby and should anyone think they saw a tiny insect on his shoulder they would likely dismiss it as an ordinary bug.

Nooroo maintained the silence that had settled on the garden when he stormed in, simply allowing the two of them to exist in the peace of this moment. Gabriel almost chuckled at the thought. Of course the garden would be where he found peace. It was never really his.

_“I really don’t want to be here.” He swatted yet another gnat away from his face, scowling at the tiny pest. “Why are we here?”_

_“Gabe, love, it’s one of the most beautiful gardens in Paris and you-“ She poked a finger at his nose. “Are art blocked. We are here to help you get out of that head of yours.”_

_Emilie tugged at his hands, dragging him further into the colorful blooms that he tried not to see out of spite. But when she pushed him onto the bench bordered by flowering hydrangea and butterfly bushes, his scowl smoothed into a simple frown._

_Emilie reached over and poked him on the nose once more. She’d told him once that his scowl lines didn’t seem to hold up if she just kept prodding at them for long enough and clearly that’s what her goal was now._

_“I still don’t like it,” he grumbled, lower lip jutting out._

_A fluttery laugh, as effervescent as the dust of the winged insects she loved, bubbled out of her throat. The grimace across his features died a swift death._

_His shoulders relaxed minutely, tension that had long since settled into his neck gradually shifting to give a measure of relief._

_Emilie smiled brightly at him, catching her breath on a contented sigh and tilting her head to one side. It grew wider when she caught him staring._

_“Penny for your thoughts, my love?”_

_A blue butterfly drifted from the bush behind her, landing neatly on her hair and he smiled in reply._

_“Just thinking about how beautiful you are right now,” he murmured softly, leaning in to bring his lips to hers._

_She pulled back slowly, and Gabriel’s eyes stayed closed as he enjoyed the feel of her body pressed up against his own._

_“Run away with me,” she whispered, cherry-red lips ever-so-soft tickling his ear, and if she had asked him to skydive to her, mountain climb to her, swim the Atlantic Ocean to be with her, gods, he would have gone._

_But she just asked him to run, and so he ran. Dropping his things, he took the hands she held out to him eagerly._

_They ran, laughing, past the downpour along the Pont des Arts, hands shielding their eyes and her gorgeous blonde hair streaming behind her in impossible, mermaid-perfect waves._

_She pulled him close, forcing his body to pirouette closer to hers. He took the lead, spinning her, the City of Lights reflecting starlight in the puddles around them. They smiled as the lights flickered in the pools of water, raindrops hitting them and shifting like candle flames._

_And they laughed, as he picked her up, and spun her around, so glad to be young and in love. When he fell, slipping in a puddle, he made sure to catch her, cushioning her with his body. She leaned down to him and pressed against him to kiss him deeply, shifting against him in pleasure._

_When he took her back home, he carried her into the bedroom. She murmured low, mentioning that they should get out of their wet clothes before they died of pneumonia. He could have died of joy in that moment, wrapped up in all that was Emilie._

_He undressed her slowly, savoring the feel of her skin, wet with the rain. She gasped against him, bringing the heat between their forms higher. She held him close with arms, legs, love. He closed his eyes once more as he kissed her again, breathing the scent of her so near._

_He hung her dress gingerly on the hook on the closet, despite her roaming hands, her needy gasps. It was beautiful and deserved to be preserved carefully, and because he was able to flash her a flirty smile while pretending to make her wait._

_She pulled him back to the bed, and he knelt between her legs, taking the edge of her impossibly-soft black silk panties between his teeth, and beginning to pull them down._

_The smell completely bypassed his nose, to hit the back of his throat, at about the same time she, empowered with lust, shoved his face directly into the stench between her legs._

_He nuzzled her for a moment, before looking back up to her. “Let’s take a shower together,” he said, trying not to show how badly she needed it._

_“Nah,” she purred, winking at him. “I’d rather you dirty me up first. Taste me.”_

_He ran his fingers against her vulva, through the panties, and the way she arched her back did not distract him from his worries that she really needed to bathe._

_“I’ll run the soap all over your body,” he begged. “So wet, so warm, let me bathe you in your most private places-”_

_She laughed. “No, that’s not sanitary,” she said. “Vaginas are self-cleaning. I’ve never washed mine. Think of it as being organic- this is just pure, natural, love.”_

One of these days he was going to need to figure out if it was possible to pull out of one of these episodes sooner.

Vomit crawled up his throat, for the second time in such a short morning. The stench was unbearable and somehow _not going away_ as Gabriel’s awareness slipped back into place among the winged insects and plants in Emilie’s garden.

Gods, he could still _taste_ it.

He ripped a handful of hydrangea flowers out of the nearby bush and crushed them mercilessly against his face.

Nooroo patted his shoulder sympathetically and Gabriel growled at the tiny creature.

“You will _stop_ ruining my memories of my wife immediately, Nooroo. This is unacceptable and low.”

Nooroo hunched over, jumping as if startled before seeming to realize he could float. He drifted in front of Gabriel, eyes wide and shaking.

“I’m not doing this.” The pleading in his thin voice grated on Gabriel’s raw nerves. “It’s part of the Miraculous, you have to be open to the emotions or you won’t feel them in time to akumatize them.”

He hesitated.

“What?”

“I could make you less sensitive, if that would please you?”

A bright flicker of something lit up the little kwami’s eyes, slipping away when Gabriel shook his head.

“Not an option. You will think of something else. For the time being, I am going to shower. With possibly an excessive amount of scented products.”

He slipped back into the house, making a beeline for his private bathroom.

Uncapping each soap he owned and smelling each one, he aggressively disposed of any that reminded him of musk and that _woman_ that was most definitely not his wife.

He settled on a soap of his own company’s design, a body wash that they’d dubbed _Gabriel_ and paired with an eau de cologne and washcloth as a special holiday bundle. Lathering it over his body, he grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed as hard as he could without taking every layer of skin off.

He scrubbed his tongue with a fresh toothbrush while he was at it, finally ridding himself of the taste that had followed him. He lingered in the shower, not luxuriating, but rather hiding. It wouldn’t do him any good, but he wanted the illusion all the same.

Upon leaving the shower, he dropped onto his back on the bed completely without decorum. Leaning a head back on the pillows, he closed his eyes for just a moment. He breathed in the smell of his body wash, old books and chalk and aromatic wood.

_He was being so loving, so sensitive, and so awkward and uncomfortable eating her out, that she decided to have mercy on him. He’d seemed so much less jittery before her underwear had come off. She wasn’t sure why, but it wasn’t changing the fact that he was being far too tentative with her body now._

_There was no sense in torturing him down there, especially if nothing he was doing was going to make her come._

_“Come here,” she said, pulling him up on the bed with her, and he whimpered as her fingers found his belt and began to unbuckle it. His penis- she prayed it was as hard as it looked- was straining against his dress slacks, and it felt almost merciful to unzip them, peel them away from him._

_It took a minute for the smell to register._

_Is this just what penises smell like? He’s so soft, so gentle- but it’s like he pureed an alpha male and slathered it everywhere._

_Gods, if this is what penises smell like, I think I’m suddenly a lesbian._

_He must have seen her expression._

_“It’s okay,” he said, smiling. “I’ve been sweating. Here, let me freshen up.”_

_I love you, she thought. Thank you so much. Go bathe. At least smell like soap, I think I can handle soap-_

_He went to his dresser, and took out a sturdy glass bottle of cologne, with the silver name **Gabriel** across it. He uncapped it, dropped his underwear, and sprayed a generous layer everywhere, then turned back to her, smiling._

_“I’m sorry about that,” he said, smiling. “Did I kill the mood?”_


	9. Unintentional Discharge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel thinks he might prefer the days that don’t trigger fond memories of his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Alcoholism and accidental genital injuries described in somewhat uncomfortable detail.

Before acquiring his Miraculous, Gabriel violently cursed the days he woke up distinctly aware of Emilie’s absence. He’d swear on those days that he preferred to wake up slowly, gradually remembering how she wasn’t here anymore.

The days just hurt more when he woke up without anything to look forward to. At least the mornings that he didn’t remember right away could lie to him long enough to rouse him from his bed.

It had become habit to simply wake up in a rage at his loss.

But ever since the Miraculous decided to _wreck_ his every memory of his wife, it seemed very much the lesser of evils.

Staring back at his own reflection as he masterfully slicked his hair back, Gabriel studied the expression in the mirror carefully. Nathalie had begun to catch on to his more irritable moods and she was already too involved with his personal life.

The least he could do would be to hide his own emotions occasionally. 

A final flick to his hair and Gabriel felt ready to leave his bedroom, shoulders back and professional glare in place. He made his way to the atelier, knowing that his chef would have already delivered his plain salad and sparkling water to the room.

He prodded at the leaves, sullen snarl viciously repressed at the flavorless meal. It was better than the alternative of accidentally triggering a vision of someone else’s _incredibly poor_ morning decisions.

It had been working for several days, at the very least.

Except when he thought of Emilie.

He would be dreaming of quiet moments in the sunlight, brushing his fingertips through the golden strands of her hair only to find himself walking down the street avoiding random men shouting “Babe, are you an elevator? Because I want to go down on you!”

He’d smile beatifically at the sparkle her eyes got in the moments where she’d tease him gently, tugging on his cravat to muss it before he had to leave for work. He’d remember moving toward her, leaning down toward her face to kiss her before freezing. The face of a man who _absolutely did not_ understand how little tongue was necessary for a kiss was then smashed against his own, hands keeping him from pulling away in his panic.

He’d taken a moment the other day to think about when Adrien was born. The joyful smile she wore when she beamed up at him, a child with hair as bright as her own shining in her arms. And lost every sense of wonder he had within him when the wife and child in front of him were suddenly replaced by a woman who absolutely did not understand that using ylang ylang essential oil on her partner’s clitoris would only be stimulating and euphoric if she _diluted_ the oil first.

Nooroo’s constant commentary was just as unhelpful as the visions.

With all the excitement of a child being shown a new game, he peppered Gabriel with questions after each vision that failed to produce a useful basis for an akuma.

It was maddening.

He was looking forward to a day where he didn’t drift into a memory of Emilie on accident. Maybe he could be productive for once, a shadow of his former professional self for a little while.

The day was surprisingly pleasant. While Nathalie raised her brows with each time she popped into his office and he was coherent, Gabriel felt wonderful. He could work without interruption or the soundtrack of the worst sex Paris had to offer and the only price tag involved was being constantly aware of his loss.

_I’m better off without the bitch._

_“She wants to leave me? Fine, I don’t need her.” He took a swig from the bottle in his hand, wincing and choking slightly on the pungent drink. Realizing it was empty, he threw it into the corner with the other bottles he’d already drained and cracked a new one open._

_How many were over there? He squinted, vision wavering slightly as he tried to count. He shook his head after an unsuccessful moment or two._

_“Ah, fuck it, she can count ‘em if she wants to. But she won’t cuz she’s not here.”_

_He took another long drink, slouching back in the easy chair. His mind was still working, unfortunately, and the drink wasn’t doing enough to dull the rage and hurt in his blood. He’d given her everything and she just **left.** She hadn’t done it quietly, there were plenty of words involved. But the result was the same and she’d left him here alone when he’d worked for years to support them as a family. _

_He should have been a rockstar._

_He was the best drummer he knew, and everyone who played with him told him the same._

_But his **wife** had to get knocked up and it killed his dreams. He had to provide for a family and he did it without complaining. All he asked for was to be able to come home after a long day at the office and have a little drink or two. And she didn’t even want him to have that._

_She wanted everything good from him. Wanted to chew him up and spit out the remains._

_“Well I’m glad you’re gone, you **bitch** , my life is better without you!” he yelled at the empty apartment, ignoring the pounding on the adjoining wall nearby._

_She hadn’t even been willing to sleep with him for months now. It’s not like she was performing her wifely duties anyway, so what was the point of her?_

_He’d tried so hard to make her feel beautiful too! She felt unwanted and lonely, and they’d talked about it sometime in the last month. But his constant requests for sex, a **clear sign** of how he found her desirable, didn’t result in anything other than screaming matches. _

_Well, fine. She didn’t want sex, didn’t want him? He didn’t want her either. He could take care of himself perfectly well, probably better than she’d ever done._

_Shoving himself off the chair and stumbling into his bedroom, he blearily searched for the bottle of lube he kept in his bedside stand. He shoved a few handfuls of unused condoms and cock rings aside before finally locating the bottle. He knew the one he was looking for by feel anyway, his fuzzy eyesight couldn’t hinder his search too much._

_He’d snatched it up immediately when he saw it in the store. **Gun lubricant #9,** it proudly proclaimed in thick, manly letters across the label. He’d shown it to his wife, but she just rolled her eyes in exasperation._

_He, on the other hand, thought it was great. He already had gun oil for his handguns and rifles, and he could also have **gun oil** for the most important gun in his arsenal. _

_“Certainly the thickest,” he muttered to himself, pride filling him at the statement. “Stupid woman doesn’t even appreciate what she gave up.”_

_He made the trek back to his comfortable chair, draining the last bottle of whiskey before uncapping the lube in his hand. He struggled with the cap for a moment, confused as to why the manufacturer chose a twist top instead of a pump bottle, but managed to get the lid off after a brief fight._

_He made a small noise of satisfaction at a job well done before pouring a generous amount into his palm and pulling his pants below his hips. He smirked to himself as he palmed his length and began to pump slowly, allowing the warming sensation of the lube to spread from his hands to his cock._

_He maintained the slow speed for a few minutes, finally grunting in frustration and speeding up when he realized the whiskey had affected more than just his eyesight._

_He steadily increased the speed, and tried to ignore the slight chafing sensation that began to nag at him._

_The chafing eventually developed into full-scale itching and tenderness and he decided it was maybe time to look down and figure out what was happening._

_He screamed as he was greeted by the sight of his most important gun in his arsenal completely red and starting to blister. Panic chased the remaining alcohol completely out of his system and he dropped his dick only to stare at his hand and its similar state._

_He scrabbled at the nearby table as he grabbed the bottle of lube he’d set down. Blinking rapidly, he peered at the words on the bottle and his eyes widened at the words “gun lubricant” and the slightly different shape of the bottle that screamed warning sirens in his head._

_“Okay well, real men don’t go to the hospital. They clean up and sleep it off. That’s what I’ll do.”_

_He stood up, shaken and resolute, grabbed a towel to wipe his hands and genitals with, and proceeded to pass out on the easy chair, pants still around his ankles._

Gabriel stood in shock. He felt horrified and slightly nauseous. He glanced at his hands, noting how much they shook, but that they were, blessedly, not injured. Gabriel took a deep breath. And another.

“NATHALIE!” he shouted, and she was beside him in moments. She would never deign to do something as undignified as sprint, so he could only imagine she must have teleported.

Her professionalism slipped slightly when she put a hand on his back and another on his arm. She frowned at him, brows furrowed deeply in concern.

“Sir? Are you alright?”

“Call an ambulance,” he said, voice shaking.

“You’re injured! I’m a first responder, let me stabilize you.” She reached for him, ready to search for injuries.

“Not here,” he muttered. “I have an address.”

“Another episode?”

“Hurry.” He gritted the words out from between clenched teeth.

“We’d have to explain how we knew.”

Gabriel cursed, and called for a transformation.

* * *

“This is your fault, you frigid bitch,” the man slurred at the fuzzy edged dream of his wife. She seemed larger than normal but he brushed it off.

“We’re married. You have to put out whenever I want. You don’t just get to leave me.”

An ugly scowl crossed her face as she lifted him, then dropped him on the most uncomfortable bed he’d ever been on. It was worse than the floor, at least that was carpeted.

The ground was moving, so he leaned over and vomited at least a bottle of whiskey all over the floor and her shoes.

She shoved him bodily - _When did she grow a spine? Why was she so **strong?** \- _back onto the cot, and it rattled alarmingly as she loaded him into the back of her ambulance.

Her face was suddenly directly in front of his, eyes flashing angry and unnaturally purple. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she seethed, “We aren’t reversing the roles here. First, _you’re_ the worthlessly entitled alcoholic _deadbeat_ of a husband. This is your fault, not mine.”

“Second, I want a divorce.” The statement was punctuated by a violent rattle of the cot as her face disappeared once more.

“Third, you forgot to put your dick away. You’re not going to die, but you’d probably better pray Ladybug manages to send up her Miraculous Cure soon.”

The slam of the ambulance door brooked the end of the discussion and even though he could hear his wife muttering physically impossible acts, obscenities, and something about the Miraculouses through the door, he decided not to say anything else.

He chanced a bleary, squinting glance down his body strewn across the cot. She hadn’t bothered to strap him in, which might have been a conscious choice after the vomit thing earlier.

When his vision cleared enough to see that the blistering across his dick had broken, leaving a mess of open sores and angry red skin, he did manage to send that prayer up to Ladybug before blacking out once more.


	10. I Have a Better Idea of What You Can Do With That Moth of Yours

Every single moment that was not interrupted by an Episode was precious, and none of them belonged to Gabriel.

There was something elegant about the way Nathalie dove into his schedule, shuffling appointments around like a master tactician, and the angle of her mouth as she sneered “Mr. Agreste’s time is more valuable than yours and you will do well to remember that,” to anyone who objected. Any frayed remains of his dignity and pride in his fashion empire were the result of her masterful PR efforts.

He tried not to let it bother him that, with so much of Gabriel so structured and cold enough to be clinical, the vast majority of his time could be devoted to the Butterfly Miraculous, whether it was notifying him that a famous rockstar was having an entirely-too-relatable meltdown about artistic integrity, or that a pair of enthusiastic BDSM novices lost the key to their handcuffs and the sub’s fingers were starting to turn purple from blood loss.

Somehow, blessedly, today had required the use of neither Hawkmoth nor Gabriel Agreste, Reluctant Voyeur of Paris, and, feverishly working against an unknown clock, he had designed his first complete garment since donning the Miraculous.

He knew better than to tempt fate by thinking he could get away with it twice though.

Gabriel stood, wincing as his back popped. He stretched the tight muscles of his back and arms, turning slowly to the painting of Emilie he’d commissioned to hang behind his desk. Every line, every shade of it would have been perfect, even to his own exacting mind, except that he had loved the real woman and no artist’s depiction could ever capture her true beauty.

He studied it slowly, tracing the deep hue of her eyes before following the slope of her cheekbones down to the curve of her mouth.

Emilie’s lips always had a smile on them. The exact tilt varied, but he knew each one like the back of his hand.

Both sides lifted equally and in a smooth unbroken arc when she was meeting new people, making business deals. Most people saw it, and though Gabriel knew it was beautiful and kind and all the words people used to describe Emilie, it was his least favorite.

It was the one that showed on the commission, and while it did a poor job of capturing his wife’s essence, it gave him a surge of pride to know that not even in a painting would anyone know the woman as intimately as he did.

He knew the left side of her mouth lifted slightly more than the right when she was amused, but knew it was impolite to laugh. He knew that she’d store the story away for later, filing the event in her memory so they could giggle about it later.

Her eyes crinkled when she was truly happy, and he knew most of her friends and acquaintances never saw it. It was reserved for her family, and family alone. He remembered seeing it the day he married her, as he turned around from locking the door to their private room. He’d clutched at his chest and sputtered at how beautiful and radiant she was in that moment.

She’d laughed and smacked his arm lightly, calling him a dramatic to equal herself, before attempting to silence him in other ways instead.

Her teeth rarely showed when she smiled, having been taught from a young age that it was improper. So very few people ever got to see the kinds of smiles that stretched her face to the widest, those that scrunched her nose and raised her cheeks, the kind that made the sun emerge from behind the darkest clouds.

And no one but Gabriel got to see the smile she reserved for him, and him alone. The one that slipped across her face as if she couldn’t help the emotions that fluttered through her body. Eyes closed, chest heaving, and mouth open, breath mingling with his own. It was his favorite smile. It was his, and he refused to ever cause her to want to share it with another. Her love shocked him and humbled him, and it shocked and humbled him how shy her smile _as he whisked them out of the club and toward his waiting car. He allowed a few impressed comments from the woman before ushering her into the backseat of his ride and directing the driver to take them home._

_Once in the vehicle, the woman wasted no time in pouncing. She pressed her body and lips against his, world-class tits crushing against his chest._

_He pulled her closer, palming her ass quickly and giving it a squeeze or two. Normally he didn’t approach women. He was well-known and attractive enough that they came to him more often than not, but this one had been worth the extra effort._

_He was sure of it now that he could “appreciate” her assets a little more personally._

_The ride seemed over too soon and not soon enough, and he rushed the two of them into the house without another word to his driver. The man wasn’t paid in pleasantries, after all._

_Usually he offered women in his home a drink or two before moving to the bedroom, but since this one seemed so eager earlier it hardly seemed necessary. He dragged her toward the back bedroom. Not his, but a sparsely furnished bedroom closer to the front of the house, with satin sheets and mood lighting and a king’s stereo with only his sickest tracks to get his women in the mood._

_Pressing his partner for the evening into the mattress, he dove back into the kiss they’d hardly broken since she’d started it in the car. He loosened the skinny jeans that had gotten just a bit too tight before palming the woman’s breasts and causing her to moan loudly._

_The dress she was wearing gradually shifted upwards, traveling above her hips quickly as he ground his still clothed erection against her body._

_She sat up to remove the garment and he took in the sight of her in front of him, clad only in a flimsy looking pair of lacy black panties. He ripped his own shirt off, and moved his lips to her chest, hoping for a few more moans and squeals._

_He mouthed against her chest as she clutched at his head. He shook her off, passion was no excuse for wrecking the hard work he’d put into his hair tonight. She looked down at him, brows pinched together and a confused moue across her face. He sat back on his knees as he looked her up and down._

_“I want to give you the night of your life.”_

_She sucked a rapid breath in, biting her lip again._

_A breathy voice escaped her as she responded. “Oh? Do tell.”_

_“Well, I’m fairly well-known for being amazing at oral.” He leaned his face in to be level with her own. “Want to find out how amazing?”_

_“Oh god, yes.”_

_He grinned, showing rows of teeth, before getting up to go to the bedside stand. He rummaged through it briefly, thinking about what extra toy he’d like to use tonight. The last girl had screamed in delight when he used a bit of minty toothpaste, and one of the others had absolutely needed a gag, but this one seemed quiet enough._

_His eyes lit up when he saw the bag of gummy bears he’d stashed in there, an idea from another male on one of his favorite sex tips sites._

_He held the bag high, shaking it a little to get her attention._

_“Gummy bears?” Her brow knit once more._

_“Yup. They’re for a fun little game. You put a few little gummy friends down here-“ she made a startled little shriek as he palmed her unexpectedly, “and I go find them.”_

_“I don’t think sugar is very good for vaginas,” she said, nervously, and her fear was so much hotter than her desire._

_He scoffed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling._

_“It’ll be fine. Come one, let’s live a little. Have some fun.”_

_She hesitated for a little bit longer, bringing her slender fingers to her mouth before nodding her head. “Okay! Let’s do it. How many should I use?”_

_He tossed the bag to her and leaned back against the headboard to enjoy the show. “Whatever. Just tell me how many there are so I can count them as I go.”_

_She nodded, opening the package and pouring a few of the treats into her hand. She counted them quickly and told him she had five as she got on her hands and knees to let him watch the process._

_She made a show of it, slipping each candy inside herself while watching his face. She batted her eyes when the last gummy had been inserted. And moaned in delight when he slapped her ass before pressing his face to her, searching for the treats._

_He shoved her face down into the mattress, arching her back with the palm of one hand. He grinned as she babbled nonsensically while he retrieved the first sweet. He continued working her over, counting the bears as he pulled them from her body. He kept them in his mouth, wanting to have her watch him chew them as a sort of finale before they got to the main event._

_When he reached six, he hesitated._

_She did say five, didn’t she?_

_After a moment, he shook himself, rolling his eyes again and scoffing internally at how the woman got herself so drunk she couldn’t even count to six._

_Pulling the woman up from the bed, he let her lie on the bed and make bedroom eyes at him while he chewed the candies._

_He frowned when one of them seemed a bit tougher. **How old are these? Did I let them go stale?**_

_Biting down harder, he decided to power through. And then it burst, warm salty liquid flooding his mouth._

_He spat the entire mouthful onto the bed, immediately horrified and scared._

_“What the hell was that!” he shouted, at the crumbly, pus-soaked nightmare, suspended in his saliva dyed bright red from the gummy bears._

_“Oh my god!” she said, shellshocked and staring at it. “I’m so sorry, I thought the herpes was dormant right now!”_

Gabriel cast his eyes to the sky, swallowing the saccharine taste in his mouth and knowing it would be with him for the rest of the day.

“Congratulate me, Nooroo,” he murmured.

“Congratulations, Master?” Nooroo said, hesitantly.

“I recognized that it wasn’t her.”

He walked slowly back to the portrait of Emilie, her enigmatic smile seeming to know how much he was struggling to bring her back into the world. He swallowed, and the taste faded.

“My Emilie is immaculate,” he said, gazing on the painting in adoration. “Whatever else is in the world, whatever horrors I must endure to save her, she sleeps through all of this. She is a saint among women, and every episode like this can only highlight how far superior she is to any mortal that walks this earth. Whatever eldritch designs the Miraculous has upon my mind, she is unsullied, pure. And I will walk through the very bowels of Hell to save her.”

“Have we Felt anything about bowels yet?” Nooroo asked, innocently.


	11. Are you butt dialing? Because I swear that ass is calling me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladybug and Chat Noir's guards will be down at the statue unveiling ceremony, and Hawkmoth absolutely must send out an Akuma to catch them by surprise. He will be accepting no ifs, no ands, and absolutely no butts.

Hawkmoth’s fingers wrapped around the top of his staff, his nails digging into the metal through the material of his suit. The better part of an hour had already been thoroughly  _ wasted  _ on trying to scout an akuma for the statue unveiling that Ladybug and Chat Noir had promised to attend and the string of absolute failures was starting to wear his patience even thinner than normal.

The sheer  _ ineptitude  _ of the average Parisian in bed continued to shock him on a daily basis. How did any of these people manage to actually  _ accomplish  _ sex a single time, let alone attract someone for an encore?

With a deep breath to steady himself, Hawkmoth opened himself back up for another attempt.

_ His head hit the pillows with a soft thump, and he let out a groan as his girlfriend’s arms pinned his own to the mattress. Her lips were on his quickly, her tongue pushing between his teeth. He responded by arching his back to give the leverage he needed to match the pressure on she applied to his mouth.  _

_ She released one hand, tracing her fingertips along his jaw and down the line of his chest. He moaned when her fingers delicately teased a nipple before traveling further down his body. Moving torturously slowly she lifted her hips away from his as she reached the trimmed hair above his cock.  _

_ Hips jumping in anticipation, he whimpered when he was roughly pressed back down by a firm palm on his thigh. Pouting up at the beauty straddling his waist did nothing but cause her to smirk wider, clearly delighted with her control of the situation. She pursed her lips and took pity, reaching back down to pump him slowly while keeping her hips just out of reach. _

_ When she finally lowered herself toward him he threw his head back against the pillows. The feel of her lips barely brushing his length was just as torturous as her earlier ministrations, and she giggled at the frustrated growl she pulled from him before rubbing herself along him without allowing penetration.  _

_ He’d have been ashamed of the sounds she managed to pull from him if he wasn’t so invested at the moment.  _

_ It was a few more moments of torment that felt like eternity before she reached down to guide him inside her, sinking down with a breathy sigh until he bottomed out. His hands clenched at her hips tightly, holding her in place. She smiled breathlessly, pressed a fond kiss to his lips, and wiggled to let him know she was comfortable.  _

_ Her body moved zealously, hips rolling with abandon as she threw her head back and cried out. He brought his hands around to her ass to use his grip on her to add a bit of his own muscle to the pace she set. He moved his feet to press into the mattress, pumping upward in time with her bouncing and enjoying the delighted noises spilling out of her.  _

_ The slick sounds they made filled the room, spurring him on and prompting him to react with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. One particularly high bounce caused her to slip completely off his erection and he relished the feel of the cool air around his overheated flesh.  _

_ He thrust upward, closing his eyes once more and feeling her body descend on his once more.  _

_ And realized that her aim was off just a second too late to stop the unexpected anal penetration.  _

_ The entire apartment building must have heard the resulting scream she let out, as if someone had tried to murder her. And a moment later the anguished yell he responded with when she punched him directly in the jaw. _

“Nooroo, this isn’t helpful,” Hawkmoth muttered, raising one hand to the bridge of his nose. He pinched ruthlessly to stave off the headache. Dropping the transformation, he stood for a moment with his eyes closed.

Gabriel glared at his kwami, who floated in front of him with eyes wide and trembling slightly. “Nooroo, I need an akuma that will actually be able to take the Miraculouses when Ladybug and Chat Noir show up at that ceremony. If you cannot accomplish this, the freedoms you’ve enjoyed in the past will be greatly curtailed. **”**

He fixed Nooroo with a look that had cowed lesser individuals in the past. “Get me something useful. Dark wings rise.”

  
  


_ The part he loved the most about being a captive was the fear. _

_ The hog ties kept his arms roughly behind his back, shackled to his ankles and arching his back with just a tiny amount of pain. The blindfold completely blacked out his sight, heightening his other senses by removing the distraction. But he could feel the heat from his lover, even as he stalked into the room, playfully predatory. _

_ “How might I serve you today, Master?” he breathed, his voice quavery, and his sphincter puckered ever so slightly with anticipation. _

_ His lover’s hand, on his head, then, and he wanted so badly to lean into the touch, but he was a good slave and would stay put until told he could move. _

_ He was being leaned forward, then, his tight nipples rubbing against the rough fabric of his lover’s jeans, but his lover’s hand in his hair kept his head leaned back, as if looking up at him. His other hand traced the edges of his lips. _

_ “I think,” he said, softly, “I’m done hearing you talk tonight.” _

_ That broke the mood slightly. “Um,” he said, nervously, “I don’t think oral is a good idea-” _

_ “Nonsense,” his lover said, laughing. “Last time was just food poisoning, you said so yourself. How am I ever going to train you without practice? Don’t you trust me?” _

_ He didn’t say anything, just shook, slightly, and hoped he was still a good slave, as his lover let him go, slightly, and he leaned back so that his feet were back on the mattress and his chest no longer against his legs. _

_ Then, his lover’s forehead against his. “That was a real question. Do you trust me? I don’t ever want anything you don’t want.” _

_ He thought about it for a moment, and was petted. _

_ His hands in his hair felt amazing, and helped him relax. _

_ “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry, just negative reinforcement from the first time. I trust you.” _

_ A slap, across his ass cheek. “I trust you, **master**.” _

_ His penis was hard again, as all of his blood went south at the same time. _

_ “Please, Master," he whined, "let me serve you.” _

_ A zipper, softly, and then his lover’s smell, musky and reassuring. _

_ “Let me know if you need to breathe, if this is too much,” he said, his thumb on his jawline. “I don’t actually want to hurt you.” _

_ He opened his mouth obediently, and was guided onto his master’s cock. _

_ He’d been practicing, with popsicles, with bananas, and it didn’t hit his gag reflex quite so hard as the disastrous first time. His tongue curled gently along the shaft, lips closing slightly, and he was rewarded by his lover’s soft grunt, his fists tightening in his hair. He breathed slowly, willing himself to relax. _

_ This was actually kind of nice. _

_ “That’s my devastatingly handsome slave,” his master said, his thumb on the outside of his mouth. “I do appreciate that smile.” _

_ He took it a little deeper, scrotum almost brushing against his teeth, the head of his penis at the back of his throat, and his sphincter squeezed, hard, despite being completely untouched. _

_ “I’m going to come,” his master murmured. “Do you think you could take it? Should I pull out?” _

_ He leaned forward, taking him deeper. _

_ “I love you, so much,” he said, and then hot, musky, bliss. _

_ He had almost no notice, to lean back, and could not have possibly made it in time, with the shackles, even if his lover hadn’t been holding him in place as he was milked dry. _

_ The diarrhea exploded forth like a firehose, drenching the shackles, the bed, and the carpet and wall behind him. _

_ “Oh my gods,” his boyfriend shouted, in shock, pulling him off of him much too quickly, and pulling several of his pubic hairs out as he went. It was his turn to scream, then, and he let go of his head, but he had been balanced precariously, and he fell, headbutting his boyfriend directly in the drained nuts.  _

_ Somehow, the diarrhea was still coming out under high pressure, and whether or not it was painting the ceiling now didn’t matter because it was definitely drenching both of them like the acid rain of a city that felt that they had personally slighted it. _

_ “I think I’m just really terrible at oral,” he said, laughing and weeping. _

_ His boyfriend, bless him, was laughing and weeping, too, as he removed his blindfold and kissed him.  _

_ “Maybe you’re just lactose intolerant,” he said, and gently moved him so that the diarrhea was pointed at the wall again, ruining the baseboards but at least not going up in the air. “Let me see if I can’t get you out of those cuffs.” _

_ He couldn’t. The feces had gotten into the mechanic of the lock. He had to, very gingerly, get up, towel off, dress, and stagger off to the garage for a bolt cutter. _

Hawkmoth abruptly dropped his transformation, coughing and gagging at both the fountain of fecal matter and the musky taste of penis that had become an uncomfortably familiar flavor throughout recent days.

Nooroo floated near his face, watching Gabriel’s left eye twitch. 

“Protein shakes.”

“What, Master?” Nooroo’s head tilted to the side, brow pinching.

“They’re flavorless but provide you with an appropriate amount of nutrition in order to survive. I will be replacing your usual ration with protein shakes instead.”

_ “Please, Master, let me serve you.” _

Gabriel choked. The smell assaulted his mind again and he waved his hand at Nooroo frantically when the kwami tried to drift closer in concern.

He finally managed a croaked agreement before transforming once more.

  
  


**_She’s always asking me to do things for her, why is it never about me?_ **

Bless Nooroo, he’d actually managed to find someone who wasn’t having intercourse. 

_ She walked down the hallway, jaw so tightly clenched she idly wondered what her dentist might say at the next check-up. Twisting the handle of the door to the bedroom, she forcibly dropped her shoulders so her fiancée wouldn’t notice how aggravated she felt.  _

_ They’d spoken about it before, how she was always the one giving and never got the same things in return, but things just didn’t ever seem to change. Unless she wanted  _ **_another_ ** _ fight right now, she’d just have to suck it up.  _

_ As she entered the room, her partner smiled from the bed, already nude and waiting.  _

Gabriel cursed Nooroo silently. 

_ Her partner bit her lip before turning around to present herself and leaning her upper body into the bed. She sighed, walking around the bed while running her fingers along her partner’s body. She grinned at the full body shudder she managed to provoke. Leaning down, she lifted the toy they’d agreed upon out of the drawer next to the bed.  _

_ It was lime green with a series of S-shaped anal beads that, according to her partner, felt amazing when removed quickly. Of course, she hadn’t been able to try one herself since everything was about providing pleasure for her spoiled brat of a partner.  _

_ A couple of firm smacks to her fiancée’s rear helped to ease some of her irritation. The added sensitivity that it brought to their play was always a nice benefit as well and she smiled to herself. She allowed a small ripple of pleasure to trickle down her spine, palming her partner’s ass roughly. _

_ She rubbed along the skin, soothing the sting before raising her hand to swat the same spot much less gently than before. A smug satisfaction followed the yelping noise her partner let out. She brought her hand down in a harsh crack, justifying the action by how her fiancée leaned into her hands and practically begged for more. _

_ She continued the punishment until the woman on the bed was keening and moaning, and she only chose to end it when she felt a solid amount of her own frustration had finally been taken out on her partner’s flesh. Reaching into the bedside stand once more, she retrieved the bottle of lube and poured a generous amount into the palm of her hand. She dropped the toy and bottle before rubbing her hands together and pressing her chest against her prone fiancée’s back. _

_ She snaked her hands around her partner’s back, toying with her in order to prepare her for the large toy. A smug smirk pulled at her lips when she pushed the toy just a little faster than normal into her partner, pulling an aroused moan from her lips.  _

_ She worked the toy in and out at a steady pace while her fingers kept busy rubbing at her partner’s clit, drawing her closer to the edge and hoping they could finish this quickly since the favor was unlikely to be returned anytime soon.  _

_ Her partner’s body began to tense and her moans became breathier by the moment. She doubled down on her pace, trying to push her partner toward the finish line and move on with her day. As the breathy mewls became louder, bordering on screams, she breathed in relief and yanked the anal beads as hard as possible out of her fiancée.  _

_ The relief turned to horror as she realized her mistake. _

_ Instead of pulling the beads straight from her partner, she’d pulled at an angle that caused the screams of pleasure to instantly switch to pain. Not only that, she’d yanked so hard that the beads had whipped around behind her. _

_ She turned to the wall behind her. A thick, brown, frothy substance coated the eggshell paint in strings. She breathed in to say something and the stench hit her abruptly, the hot Parisian day doing nothing to keep it from spreading through the room immediately.  _

_ She gagged, vomiting directly on the carpet while her partner clutched at her backside and moaned in pain. _

He’d missed the start of the statue unveiling. Oddly, Ladybug didn’t seem to be there, but he couldn’t quite work up the nerve to be annoyed about it.

Hawkmoth watched the Chat Noir speak to the sculptor, giving a smarmy little grin to the older man. He’d yet to close his mouth since witnessing the anal bead incident. Instead, he mutely listened as the sculptor expressed an uncomfortably obsessive interest in Ladybug. 

_ She can’t possibly be more than sixteen.  _

He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he considered the man. His interest in a girl half his age was certainly not something he wanted to use. But he was angry at Chat Noir and upset with Ladybug, it really was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to miss.

_ Screw it, he can’t possibly be worse than the other people I’ve seen today. _


	12. Do you feel the sparks fly between us? Because you're making me melt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obtaining the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses will give Hawkmoth ultimate power. Just how far will he go to obtain them?

_  
Single parenthood was exhausting on the best of days, and she had not seen a best day for as long as she could remember._

_The only reason she had made it this far was because of her personal assistant days, learning how to schedule things with military precision, down to how long it would take for a traffic light to change. Scheduling her consulting clients around her kids’ schedules should have been no problem. But children aren’t punctual, and by the time her eldest had found his left shoe, her youngest had had to potty again, and then by the time she had finished that, the middle child had tried to swallow a tube of lip gloss, and then her eldest had taken his shoes back off because one of his socks was navy blue and the other was black, and then her middle child hadn’t even announced she had to potty, just gone in her pants. Finally, all three children were out the door, and when she normally had a half hour to herself before she saw her first client, it was down to 15 minutes. Half an hour was enough time to shower, make breakfast for herself, and maybe get in some light meditation so that she could be a professional for the day. Fifteen minutes, with stress levels this high, meant screw it, the only thing that could help her at this point was an orgasm._

_She locked the front door and raced upstairs, digging frantically through her underwear drawer to find Old Reliable, who absolutely would not result in another unintended pregnancy. Pants off, and with a little prep work, things were humming along nicely._

_At nine minutes until the start of her shift, she stopped paying attention to the clock._

* * *

The episode let him go early.

Ominously.

Gabriel frowned slightly, unsure whether the woman in his vision would be interrupted by her children or her clients, but absolutely certain that she must orgasm and recover in the next six minutes before disaster struck.

His brain thought _maybe I could help_ before his heart had a chance to catch up.

He felt his horror as he would the palm of his wife’s hand, slapping him across the face.

_How dare you_

_Does our marriage mean nothing_

_Do you even love me at all_

_Unfaithful_

“Never,” he breathed, shrinking down on himself a little. “My love, the only woman I have or will ever love, everything, just for you-”

The episode shoved him under again as if waterboarding him.

* * *

_Video conferencing wouldn’t be able to smell the sex, the sweat, on her, as she arched her back, pumping herself furiously, her hand working her clit as the vibrator massaged at her g spot, and her toes curled as she began to shake, her release so very close-_

_Until the toy died._

_“No,” she muttered, pressing the on button, then the off and and on, and then cycling through functions frantically. “No no no no no, not now-”_

* * *

The episode let him go again, and he breathed.

A random woman in Paris- a _stranger-_ and her failure to orgasm was no concern of his.

He considered her for Akumatization for a moment- certainly, her _failure to obtain ultimate power_ was something he could work with to steal the Miraculouses, and her rage at being denied something she needed and deserved was potentially highly useful, but he shuddered to think of what she might ask in return, and decided against.

He might do anything for love, but he certainly wouldn’t do that.

Honestly, things could have been so much worse-

* * *

_She had torn apart her alarm clock, every remote in the house, her children’s toys, how could there be no AA batteries_ **_anywhere_** _, she was out of time and moved with the frantic hedonism of a Maeneid but there was_ **_nothing_** _, and she refused to give up, so she twisted open the handle of the vibrator to find the batteries already inside, and, following advice she had heard but never tried, chewed gently on the batteries, trying to coax just a little more juice out of them, then roughly shoved the remotes, the toys, her taken-apart alarm clock off the bed and put the toy back in herself roughly, fucking herself with the ardor of a brutish lover instead of a passionate one-_

* * *

Gabriel pressed his hands over his eyes, sucking a horrified breath into his lungs and wishing that covering his face would keep him from seeing this random woman’s deranged choices. 

A despairing groan left his mouth when an alert dinged to let him know Ladybug and Chat Noir had been sighted somewhere in Paris once more. He glanced at the device gratefully. Maybe if he could focus on something else for a moment he could find an overly emotional teenager thinking about anything but sex to akumatize. Maybe they’d be mad about their best friend shunning them or something equally mundane!

When he pulled up the location, his brow furrowed. It was only about a block from the home of the woman who needed to be on a conference call in a few minutes.

* * *

_She was out of time, she was out of time, she was stressed and cock-blocked and_ **_needed to come_** _, and so she did not bother trying to build herself up gently, but cranked the vibrator immediately up to the highest setting and proceeded to pound herself frantically, with all of the abandon and lack of skill of a teenager on prom night._

_She was imagining things, when she felt the vibrator start to get unnaturally hot. She just was._

* * *

_Do I call another EMT Akuma?_ Gabriel thought to himself, frantically. _She’s going to hurt herself. I should do something._

_I’m not emergency medical services._

_It’s not my job._

He wasn’t coherent long enough to make a decision.

* * *

_She took the toy out, it was starting to smell suspicious and would probably need to be washed soon, and was rubbing it along her vulva but not penetrating herself, and it was definitely getting hot enough to worry her, but maybe temperature play was fun? Maybe she could still come like this?_

_The wetness on her fingers was definitely not human-made._

_She stared down at the toy in horror, and the translucent jelly rubber could actually show her that the damage to the battery had compromised its protective outer layer, leaking acid into the toy, which had started to melt._

_She touched her vulva, and it came away gooey, as if she had tried to fuck herself on toy slime._

_The alarm clock, dismantled and in pieces across her floor, had not been able to warn her that she was out of time._

_The web camera turned itself on, and her first client appeared on her desktop monitor, then cleared their throat loudly and turned around to give her some privacy._

_“I’m so sorry,” her client said, clearly mortified. “Let’s reschedule.”_

_She gave the first excuse that came to mind._

_“It was an Akuma.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, all you magnificent perverts! Jelly rubber is a fun texture for your toys, but porous, full of phthalates, and ultimately not great for structural integrity. Yes, melting toys is a real phenomenon, and it’s [exactly as horrifying as it sounds.](https://dangerouslilly.com/2013/09/melted-sex-toys/) Consider switching to silicone, which is body-safe and easily sanitized. Just avoid pairing them with silicone-based lubricants. I love you, love yourself when you love yourself or Hawkmoth is going to see you fucking.


	13. Do you have a map? Because I'm pretty sure your boundaries were back there in the distance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't cheating. Not really. But he wondered whether Emilie would say, if she knew.

It was most certainly _not_ an akuma.

Gabriel’s squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying in vain to drown out the whisper in the back of his mind that simply said _But it could be._

It could be. 

It wouldn’t be cheating, not really, if he used her horror and humiliation while avoiding the _very much still present_ sexual frustration. 

It wouldn’t be him. It would be the Akuma he sent her.

She’d certainly be one of the most powerful akumas he’d made so far if he looked at the sheer level of rage she’d employed while searching for power. She’d _chewed on batteries._ If she applied even a tiny amount of that ferocity and problem-solving drive to searching for the Miraculouses, this could be over. 

Gabriel swallowed thickly and winced as the idea stuck in his throat, choking him with thoughts of how Emilie would react.

Emilie would have never approved of the Butterfly Miraculous in the first place. 

The alert from the Ladyblog chirped at him again, signaling the departure of the heroes and the closing of his window of opportunity.

He needed to decide _now._

Emilie alive and angry was worth more than her being gone.

And it wasn’t cheating, not _really._

Through the eyes of the media, he watched Ladybug and Chat Noir have their photo op, flirt with each other, pose for pictures, and depart.

* * *

The drink he’d poured himself that evening wasn’t helping the way his thoughts whirled inside his head. He’d set it down to allow the bronze liquid to shimmer under the light of his lamp. It shifted slightly when one of the ice cubes melted just a bit more. 

Gabriel sat slumped into a tall backed chair in his study, staring at nothing.

The Butterfly Miraculous gave him the power to give anyone any powers they needed. So why was he so overcome with regret?

He had lost count of how many times he had toyed with the idea.

This really wasn’t the kind of thing he should decide to do lightly, on the spur of the moment, in desperation. He had some limited control over the form his Akumas would take- some degree to which he could design their powers- but, time and time again, their independence ( _defiance_ ) caught him by surprise.

The woman today could have been a more targeted Horrificator, trapping Ladybug and Chat Noir in goo as they ran down some as-yet-unknown clock. It could have had some kind of time-released trap. It could have simply drained their timers, much faster than the standard five minutes or so they were allotted after using their special powers.

Or, he could have been accidentally indirectly responsible for suspending a bound and struggling teenager high in the air and threatening them with a slimy, chemical-smelling tentacle monster.

They were _minors_.

Not for the first time, Gabriel wondered what the true cost of the Butterfly Miraculous was, and whether it was his own inhibitions holding him back.

He wondered whether Emilie would say, if she knew.

Gabriel took a deep drink from the glass before setting it back down on the dimly lit table. A bead of water slid leisurely down the side and onto the wood surface. 

There was exactly one woman in the whole world that made this entire ordeal worthwhile, and, somewhere, there was exactly one person who could be the Akuma who could give him his victory. As long as they were not one and the same, if he kept trying, he would eventually find them.

He was on the right track. He would apologize when Emilie was back in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that we could not give you Ladybug and Chat Noir vs Tentacle Monster. They're fourteen.


	14. You are so selfish. You’re going to have that body the rest of your life and I just want it for one night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is the best thing in his life, the brightest thing, and she glitters as radiantly as sunlight. She is his queen. This is his city, he has all of the wealth, all of the fame, all of the power anyone could ever ask for- and it could have been, it had been, laid at her feet, by her devoted slave.
> 
> And she's gone.
> 
> (feat. Gabriel x Hawkmoth, and their Nooroo)

Gabriel wasn’t sure how, but between his extracurriculars, and his distractions, he managed to put together his fashion show on time and up to standards.

Getting Audrey to attend had never been a sure thing, but had been too good of a potential opportunity to miss. Chloe had been a phenomenal asset for giving people the kinds of negative emotions that were useful to him, and Gabriel knew from experience that she had learned from only the very best. Audrey had even taught _him_ how to sneer, at the very beginning of his career. He intended to use her time in Paris as much as possible- spawning Akumas at the very least, Akumatizing her directly if possible.

Style Queen was to have been his triumph.

That night, Gabriel unpinned his Miraculous, and turned it over in his hands, contemplatively.

“Adrien could have died,” Nooroo said, after a while.

“I would never have allowed that,” Gabriel said, for his own benefit more than Nooroo’s. “I would have pulled back the butterfly. I won’t risk him again, not after Gorizilla.”

“He was disintegrating,” Nooroo responded, solemnly. “Without Ladybug, he would have been lost. Master, you went too far. The only reason I’m able to say it, is because you know I’m right.”

Gabriel put down the Miraculous, and put his face in his hands.

“I can’t stop,” he told Nooroo, and hated how helpless his voice sounded, how trapped he felt, how his Kwami could Feel everything he was feeling. “I have nothing left to lose. She is my world.”

“I’m telling you,” Nooroo said, with an odd air of gravity, “you discovered today, exactly how much you _do_ have left to lose.”

Gabriel shook his head, as much a denial as an attempt to refocus.

_She’s gone._

_She is the best thing in his life, the brightest thing, and she glitters as radiantly as sunlight. She is his queen. This is his city, he has all of the wealth, all of the fame, all of the power anyone could ever ask for- and it could have been, it had been, laid at her feet, by her devoted slave._

_And she’s gone._

_The helicopter leaves at dawn, across the Atlantic, a world away. It’s been years since he’s seen seen her- who can even count them, when one day bleeds into the next like this? Will she come back, when their daughter graduates? When she marries? Will her grandchildren be as old as their daughter is now, by the time he sees her again?_

_He can’t bear it._

_What good is having everything when it can’t even buy you the only thing that matters?_

_What else does she want? What more can he do?_

_She’s taken the master bedroom for the night. His things were thrown out the window- lovingly gathered by the butler, laundered, repaired, replaced, put into a very nice suite that is_ **_not their nuptial bed_ ** _until she leaves, she leaves, tomorrow morning._

_He stands outside the door, and prays for a butterfly._

The episode hadn’t even finished falling away before Gabriel was _sprinting_ to his study, pinning his brooch on along the way and being wildly irresponsible about potentially getting caught.

“You could have just transformed in your bedroom!” Nooroo whispered, from his pocket.

“Hawkmoth has no good reason to be in Gabriel Agreste’s bedroom,” he said back, not bothering to keep his voice down. “Hawkmoth _must not_ be caught in Gabriel Agreste’s bedroom, and the way to enforce that is for Hawkmoth to never _be_ in Gabriel Agreste’s bedroom. We can still save this moment. It is perfect. But, if we are going to succeed, we must move quickly.”

To the office, to the portrait, to the atrium, dark wings, rise.

The butterfly made its way to Le Grand Paris in record time, but Andre Bourgeois had not even known he was waiting.

 _MALEDIKTATOR,_ he said, the triumph ringing clear and true in the voice in both men’s minds. _WHAT GOOD IS IT TO HAVE THE WHOLE WORLD, IF YOUR WHOLE WORLD WILL NOT HAVE YOU? I LEAD YOU TO A TREASURE I COVET BUT CANNOT ACHIEVE FOR MYSELF, ULTIMATE POWER TO—WAIT, WHY ARE YOU NOT LISTENING TO ME?_

The answer to his own question was waiting as soon as the empathic link connected.

_He’d never really understood what it would take to please her, and effective tomorrow morning, it would no longer matter. He’d seen the divorce coming, of course. He’d done what he could to stop it, and, when he couldn’t, to delay it, while he searched for an answer he never really expected to find. But he was out of time. Tomorrow, she was leaving him. But he’d begged, and he’d cried, and she’d agreed to give him tonight._

_He hadn’t thought about the fact that he would see her rejection of him in her eyes as they were together. Her hair barely bounced as he pushed against her, her mouth set in a sneer, her eyes narrowed. It spoke to how little he knew her, that he didn’t even know if she wanted his hands on her hips, around her waist, on her breasts. Anything he did, she huffed and rolled her eyes, making it abundantly clear that she was a woman of very little tolerance, and he was exhausting the last of it._

_“Just tell me what you want,” he murmured, desperate. “Anything you could want, is yours, just ask for it.”_

_She scoffed. “That’s the point of the divorce, darling. You don’t know what I want, and never have. You’re in your forties, we’ve been married for twenty years. If you don’t know how to please me by now, it’s not my job as I’m leaving you to finally teach you to not be terrible in bed. You asked me for one more chance to prove me wrong. You’re proving me right.”_

_She’d been rolling her eyes, but something about his rhythm made her snap her eyes back to his. The lights were dim, the sheets were gold, but Andre’s eyes were unmistakably purple._

_His skin was blue._

_Was he an Akuma? she wondered, shocked. How did she manage to get someone Akumatized while they were having sex?_

_Two fingers under her chin, tilting her head up, and a thumb that lightly traced her lips._

_“I would give you anything,” he murmured, and his pace was somehow more sure, more virile than it had ever been as she had known him. “All I need for you to do is tell me what you want. I command this of you.”_

_Her breath caught, and her cunt clenched around him. Where the hell was this coming from?_

_“This,” she murmured, not even realizing she was obeying. “I want this. I want you like this.”_

_He smiled, wry, and the thumb that had been tracing its way around her lips was shoved deep into her mouth, catching around the inside of her teeth and forcing her head to the side and exposing her neck for his teeth._

_She moaned, and wrapped her legs around him._

* * *

Nathalie found him in the Lair, sitting on the floor, his eyes distant.

“Sir? What happened? I hadn’t even realized you had sent out an Akuma.”

“What have I done?” he asked, and would say no more.

* * *

_There were sweat-soaked sheets, and moans of ecstasy, and a sash, lovingly folded on a small futon at the foot of the bed, used for carnal purposes and then torn slightly in the process, and suddenly, Malediktator was Andre Bourgeois again._

_He looked down at his sweaty, panting, lust-glazed wife, confused._

_“Are you ready for round two, darling?” she asked, pulling him toward her._

_“Erm, yes! But shouldn’t we, you know, round one, first?”_

_She looked at him with dawning understanding._

_She slapped him._

_“For the first and only time in your life you manage to get past your bumbling incompetence and actually satisfy me literally on the eve of our divorce and you don’t even remember how to do it? Was it even you that was fucking me, or was Hawkmoth doing all the work? This is absurd, I deserve so much better, ridiculous, absolutely fucking ridiculous-”_

* * *

* * *

“Hawkmoth has no good reason to be in Gabriel Agreste’s bedroom,” Gabriel monologued to himself, as he passed. “Hawkmoth _must not_ be caught in Gabriel Agreste’s bedroom, and the way to enforce that is for Hawkmoth to never _be_ in Gabriel Agreste’s bedroom. We can still save this moment. It is perfect. But, if we are going to succeed, we must move quickly.”

The Gorilla had sudden clarity about why the Agreste staff required perfectly impassive faces, and perfect discretion. It took every ounce of his years of military discipline to make it to one of the staff rooms, close the door behind it, and descend into belly laughs that left him gasping for air.

Nathalie looked up from her cup of tea with a bemused smile.

“What is Adrien up to, now?” she asked. It was her job to know if he got up to Mischief, so that she could put a stop to it, but if it took her a moment to complete the Very Important Work _Gabriel_ required, well, that was always a higher importance than keeping Adrien out of trouble.

“Not Adrien,” he gasped, “ _Gabriel_. He was running down the hallway, talking about how he can’t afford for Hawkmoth to get caught in his bedroom. Do you think we should go to the police with a lead? Does our NDA cover disclosing whether our employer is secretly hooking up with a supervillain?”

All of the color drained from Nathalie’s face, and The Gorilla’s smile faltered.

“We’re not going to be accessories to crime,” he told her, gently. “Chances are good, not even Gabriel would be. The heart wants what it wants, there’s no helping that, and from what I could tell, Gabriel was being careful to not get caught.”

Nathalie had already taken out her tablet and was typing. “He needs to keep his Nooroo under control,” she muttered, not quietly enough.

He started snickering again.

“ _He named it? Have you two, uh, met?”_

* * *

When he saw him the next day, The Gorilla couldn’t help but smile knowingly at Gabriel.

“Did you have a good evening?” he asked, courteously.

Gabriel glared at him.

“Go wash your hands,” he spat.

All of the color drained from The Gorilla’s face.

“How did you know about that?” he asked, deathly serious.

“I can smell it under your fingernails,” Gabriel sneered. “Now. In this house, we respect each other’s secrets. I trust you will say nothing about mine, and I will say nothing about yours. Go wash your hands.”

Adrien was never really sure why The Gorilla stopped talking at all.


	15. Are you a magician? Because you're making a part of me move without even touching it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The DJ boy had managed to get Mayor Bourgeois to dance, and it was her turn in the spotlight. Alec introduced her, and The Challenge, all of Paris was watching.
> 
> Her performance could be masterful.
> 
> All she needed to do was get Gabriel Agreste to come.

Audrey Bourgeois was a tastemaker. She could make someone, and, just as easily, she could break them. Gabriel leared early in his design career that he must never show her anything that he could not replicate, because, if she wanted something, she would stop at nothing to get it.

For the first time in their lives, her husband had given her an orgasm, saving their marriage.

As it turned out, Audrey really enjoyed orgasming.

One orgasm opened up the possibility of more, and she had solid evidence that he could do it- provided, of course, that he was Akumatized.

Audrey Bourgeois was a tastemaker.

Word got around.

Never within earshot of children, of course, and never in polite company. But, in the way that friends will talk to friends about their sexual troubles, the solution was passed from mouth to ear, gradually, relentlessly.

* * *

There was something wrong with Simone Grimault. All of her boyfriends told her so. She supposed they were right- none of _them_ seemed to have any trouble orgasming, after all, and they were having the same sex she was. No matter the shape or size of the penis, no matter the pace or the duration, none of them could manage to make her come.

No doctor could find anything wrong with her, so she turned to the whisper network. She read magazines about sexual health voraciously, fiddling with coins, scarves, cards as she tried to teach herself dexterity.

She learned, through this dexterity, that it was possible for her body to orgasm. So she married a magician- and couldn’t come from sex with him, either. 

She heard, through the whisper network, that Hawkmoth might be able to help.

She became a good magician, herself. A _better_ magician, possibly, than her husband. So, while they waited for the boy in the red hat and glasses to set up his DJ equipment for his turn on The Challenge, she managed to slip a condom to her husband, and smiled when he discovered it in his pocket.

To her very great delight, he blushed, looking around. She caught his eye, winked at him, and then nodded to a supply closet that they knew would be empty.

Magicians are very good at taking advantage of distractions and slipping away.

They didn’t bother to take time for foreplay, as he undid his pants and lifted her skirt.

“How- did you-” he gasped, thrusting into her. He hadn’t bothered with the condom. She was not as wet as she would have liked- who knew how little time they had- but she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands on her buttocks held her steady; her hands on his helped him thrust into her, driving him deeper. She was having fun, of course, and more, knowing that she had bested him.

She nipped the edge of his nose, playfully. “Magicians never tell their secrets.”

He thrust in, harder, this time, and she gasped. “I’m the magician. You’re the assistant. It’s your job to look pretty and smile for the camera. You’re the distraction, not the main event.”

She smirked, taking his arms gently, running her hands along them, squeezing the biceps, and holding the over his head. “And maybe,” she purred, “I may have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

She clenched her vagina, hard, and he groaned, spilling into her. For a few moments, he would be helpless.

The handcuffs she had stolen from his back pocket, and that she now snapped around his wrists and against the metal shelving, were not the trick pair he had expected.

The key was on a necklace around her neck.

A truly implausible number of scarves went into his mouth, as he fought off the haze to realize what had happened. He shook his head, shocked, but it was too late.

She finger-combed her short brown hair, straightened her clothes, and did up her husband’s pants again.

“Misdirection, my dear,” she said, her hand on the door knob, “is about watching one hand when you should be watching the other.”

The DJ boy had managed to get Mayor Bourgeois to dance, and it was her husband’s turn. Her turn in the spotlight.

Her performance could have been masterful.

All she needed to do was get Gabriel Agreste to come for it.

He shut her down before she even got a chance, with more cruelty and disdain than was at all justified.

She came back to the supply closet quickly, faster than her husband had been expecting, and with her face fallen. She locked the door, and began to remove the scarves from his mouth.

“I take it it didn’t go well,” he said, when he could, as she undid the cuffs from his wrists.

“I would have expected more “I told you so,” she said, quietly.

He laughed. “I’m just lucky you didn’t decide to saw me in half. You’ve been on your knees begging me for a chance for years; maybe I should be on mine, begging you for forgiveness.”

She wasn’t sure, but there was a flutter of motion under the door that could be a butterfly.

She lifted her skirt, his cum still dripping slightly down her legs.

“Yes,” she said, thoughtfully, “you should.”

* * *

It was pure luck that Marinette saw the butterfly on the way to the TVi studio. Specifically, Tikki saw it. She transformed into Ladybug and was off, trying to catch it before it could Akumatize anyone.

It wasn’t two minutes after Simone had left the stage, before Ladybug arrived.

“Ladybug!” Alec said, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you here!”

“Simone brought me!” she said, flustered, and reaching for the first thing that came to mind. “But now I have to go, bye!”

She swung off through the halls, with Adrien, of all people, in hot pursuit, and Alec and the cameraman directly behind him.

The butterfly slipped under the supply closet door, but a Lucky Charm provided a key.

Inside, Simone was sitting on a shelf, with her husband Jacques kneeling in front of her. He was clearly Akumatized, and doing something to her. By her hands behind her head, and the expression on her face, it was clearly something very strange.

“Don’t stop,” she was murmuring, her fingers tightly in his Akumatized hair. “I’m close.”

Ladybug took a moment to try to figure out what was going on, but it wasn’t really important; Miraculous Cure would fix it soon enough. “Sir, I need you to step away from the civilian,” she commanded, swinging her yo-yo menacingly.

Simone opened her eyes, and stared at Ladybug in horror.

The Akuma turned, and showed that _she had lifted her skirt and was naked underneath it and his face was covered in goo._ Ladybug’s face went as bright red as her suit.

Behind her, Adrien’s eyes were wide, so she stepped in front of him to block his view and give Simone privacy.

“Ladybug,” Simone said, clearly trying to measure her tone, “Could you give us a half hour or so? We will come out and surrender without a fight, when we’re done, but for now, I’d like for you to go away, please.”

Jacques, or whatever his Akumatized form was, however, lunged for Ladybug’s earrings, his thumb and first two fingers of his gloved hand as shiny with slickness as his face.

Simone howled with rage and disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's absolutely not Simone's fault that she can't come from penis in vagina sex alone; 75% of women can't. Foreplay is important. I love you all, fuck better or you'll traumatize Hawkmoth with your jiggly bits.


	16. Love Square Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Love Square gets their chance in Hawkmoth’s spotlight.

_“Girl, staring at the back of his head isn’t going to make him notice you.”_

_Startled, she knocked several books off the edge of her desk before turning to hiss at her best friend to be quieter._

_“He sits **right in front of us,** Al! At least **try** to be subtle!”_

_Her friend dropped her bag on the desk, plopping into the seat. “Come on, M. Just tell him.”_

_She sighed heavily, batting her eyes at the blond head of hair only two feet away. A soft murmur left her lips and something between a smile and a pout slipped onto her face._

_“I can’t do that, he’s never going to be interested in someone like me. He’s perfect.”_

_“Suit yourself girl, but if you never tell him, he’s never gonna know you’re even interested.” She settled her supplies on the desk neatly._

_“He spends hours helping me with homework Al, he knows how dumb I am. At least when I’m peppering him with questions over chat I can’t mix up my words too badly.”_

_Her friend’s loosely ponytailed hair swung side to side as she shook her head. “He spends hours helping you, and you think that’s not interest.”_

_With a shrug and one last glance at the boy ahead of her, she gathered her fallen books and pretended to listen to their instructor making her way to the front of the classroom._

“It _could_ do the trick,” he muttered to himself, rubbing a hand across his chin. “I’ve akumatized people for far less.

_She batted her eyes at the back of his head, willing him to look at her again like he had when he’d turned to pass the papers back. She’d seen sparkles in the air when their hands had brushed._

Gabriel’s hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose. No, the girl’s devotion to her crush only made his stomach turn in uncomfortable ways the longer he watched. Someone else’s emotions would probably suit the situation better, rather than a simple unrequited crush.

Dropping his transformation, Gabriel shook his head and headed back to work on the design he’d been interrupted in the middle of. Maybe this time it would be better just to wait rather than send out a sub-par akuma. After all, he couldn’t afford to be too predictable.

———

His dinner was growing cold in his atelier, but Gabriel hardly noticed. _Something_ had been pulling at his mind for some time, since long before the work day was over. Not enough to rush anywhere, and nowhere near enough to simply trigger any visions, but a gentle tug that wouldn’t leave him alone.

Dragging himself into the darkened, butterfly filled room, he called for his transformation and reached out.

_She leaned over the edge of the balcony, poking at the rungs and waiting for him to arrive. At the sound of a soft footstep behind her, she spun with a wide smile on her face._

_“Hey! Glad you could make it!” She waved him over to stand nearby._

_“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” He grinned back at her, tilting his head to look down. “What are friends for?”_

_She stared down at her hands. Swallowing thickly, she met his eyes._

_“I just really understand if you don’t want to do this. Since you know I’m basically using you as practice for the boy I love.”_

_His smile softened, the black fabric surrounding his green eyes making them all the more sweet. “M, I went into this arrangement knowing what the deal was. I— have someone I’m in love with too. And all this is just um.”_

_He paused, shrugging. “It’s practice for both of us, I guess.”_

_She nodded, taking a deep breath. Settling her hands on his chest and standing on her toes, she leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lips._

_It quickly grew more heated when he wove his fingers into her hair and she smiled into the kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tilted her head to give him better access._

_She stepped forward, using her chest to push him backwards until he fell with a thump onto the chair she kept on the balcony. Licking her lips, she followed him onto it quickly, straddling his lap and pressing down until he groaned into her mouth._

_Giggling, she pulled her shirt over her head, throwing it to the ground somewhere behind her. She tilted her head back as his hands came up to cup her, enjoying the touch. He wasn’t the boy she wanted, but he wanted her right now and that would be enough._

_Pulling his zipper down, she began to nip and lick along his torso, smiling when he twitched at a particular movement. She dragged her teeth on his abs, relishing the deep moan he released._

_“Aren’t you going to move a bit more? Usually you’re not so content to sit still for me,” she teased, pulling the zipper to the end and reaching inside to fondle him. Pressing her palm to his length firmly, she began to move her hand from tip to base as his head tilted back against the chair._

_When he lifted his head, she frowned a bit. A low growl left his mouth and she allowed herself to be distracted long enough for him to flip her underneath him. Finding herself with her face pressed into the chair, she wondered if she’d really seen his eyes go to blue or if there was something with the lighting on the balcony._

_But she didn’t have long to consider it, when the pants she’d been wearing abruptly tore under his hands, pulling apart at the seams._

_“What are you **doing?** You—“_

_She cut herself off with a moan, feeling his hands slide around her waist and his fingers brush her clit before dipping into her to gather the wetness there._

_Her back arched under his palm and she felt him run the head of his cock along her folds. He leaned over, kissing her neck before slamming the entire length of himself into her._

_He pulled her ponytail back roughly, wrapping it around his fist and using it to help guide her body back and forth as he plunged in and out. The hand that he’d teased her with had moved back to her clit, drawing lazy circles and bringing her closer to the edge._

_“Oh my god, I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but it’s amazing.” She forced the words out between little gasps for air, the angle of her neck making her dizzy and lightheaded in the best of ways._

_She could feel the moment her legs began to shake that it would be a night to remember, whether or not her partner was only a fuck buddy and she tightened her muscles as she approached the height of her release. Babbling a warning to the man behind her, she tilted her head back in a silent scream as he grabbed her hips and moved faster to work her through the orgasm._

_Her arms collapsed as her body stopped shaking and she fuzzily felt her partner bite her shoulder as he groaned and shook in turn above her._

_They stayed in that position until he pulled himself from her, quickly zipping himself up and trying to put himself back together._

_Breathing heavily, she turned over on the chair and took in the ruined state of her clothing with a satisfied smile._

_“I um, I really need to go. I’ll see you later.”_

_She blinked, the words startling her out of her haze. “Wait, what?”_

_But there was no response as he left her there alone on the balcony to rush away._

“Boy, I _demand_ you get me the miraculouses, I have given you what you wanted to take care of the girl like you asked and—“

Hawkmoth sighed heavily, rubbing at his eyes with his palms.

“Just stop crying. You have nothing to feel guilty for.”

A few more moments of trying to convince the akuma to do as he asked proved fruitless and he recalled the butterfly himself, determined to ask Nooroo why this one in particular hadn’t been in any way useful.


	17. Love Square Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions don’t always go the way one plans. Especially when there are akumas around.

_“I like you!”_

_His breath caught as the dark-haired girl in front of him all but screamed the most coherent sentence she’d spoken to him in a long time. Running a hand through the hair at the back of his head, he searched for the right words to tell her._

_He looked around the small cove of trees sheltering them from the rest of the student body, grateful that she didn’t force him to break her heart in public._

_“Wow, I um. I’m really flattered. Thank you. But I’m in love with someone else.”_

_He watched, a sharp sting in his chest as her face fell. Her mouth worked but no words came out and he decided to push forward. No sense in being coy about it._

_“You’re pretty and interesting and I like you a lot, but not— like her. I’m really sorry.”_

_She nodded, staring at her shoes. He reached out to pat her shoulder, but yanked his hand back when she looked up at him abruptly._

_“Hey, what’s she like?”_

_He hesitated, eyes wide. Noises left his mouth but they certainly weren’t words._

_“Not for anything weird!” Flapping her arms around her face, she grimaced. “It’s just that it will help me to move on. To know that you’re happy with the person you’ve chosen.”_

_A slow smile spread across his face as he thought about how to describe her._

_“Beautiful.”_

_An eyebrow went up. He shrugged._

_“But not just physically. She’s strong and tough, never backs down from a fight. The way she takes charge is amazing and it makes my heart stop. She’s always helping people. She’s not interested in me, but I’m going to wait for her forever if I have to.”_

_A small smile flitted across her face and he hoped it would be enough._

_“She sounds wonderful.”_

_He nodded, smiling widely down at her. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he allowed himself to rock back and forth on his heels._

_Sniffling, she turned to go and his shoulders fell at the sight of tear-filled eyes before she faced away from him. He reached for her, but knew there was nothing that could be done to help the situation. He wasn’t going to fall in love with her just because she was in love with him._

_Something dark fluttering overhead caught his eye and he looked up into the trees to see if a squirrel or bird was moving. The foliage was suspiciously quiet though and he dropped his gaze just in time to see the girl in front of him unzip his pants while falling to her knees._

_“ **What** are you doing? M, this is not what I meant!”_

_She looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering rapidly. “Are you sure? I won’t if you don’t want, but I just wanted to show you I can take charge just as much as your girl who doesn’t want you can.”_

_Her lower lip poked out in a little pout as she inched her hands up his thighs and placed them on the waistband of his boxers._

_“Please?”_

_He swallowed, mouth drying at the sight of the girl in front of him begging for his cock. Finding himself unable to speak, he nodded slowly._

_With a wide grin spreading across her face, she palmed him through the boxers. Stumbling back against a nearby tree, he sagged against the bark. Her smile only grew as she increased the pressure and leaned forward._

_Her breath warmed him even through the fabric, prompting him to grab a bit of her hair when she licked him through the cloth to tease him. He made an irritated grunting noise, but she only giggled and slowed the movements of the hand she was running along his cock._

_“Stop **teasing** me.” He groaned and knocked the back of his head lightly on the tree._

_“Hmmm. I don’t think so. I’m in charge, remember? But I suppose I **am** also here to help you, so—“_

_He sucked in a gasp when she pulled his boxers down and the warm air struck him. The hand that was working him from outside the shorts didn’t return to touch him now that he was exposed though, and he looked down to see why._

_“I want you watching me, understand? I want you to see—“ A lick to his head and he choked. “—everything I’m going to do.”_

_She waited, as he fought a shudder that ran down his spine. Finally managing to catch his breath, he threaded his fingers into her hair._

_“Okay, go ahead then.”_

_With a smug smile, she licked her lips slowly. And then leaned forward incrementally to lick him instead._

_Struggling with the urge to close his eyes and enjoy the sensations, he breathed heavily as she wrapped her mouth around the head. He had to fight the urge to pull her faster by the hair but managed._

_Barely._

_Blue eyes stared into his as she moved just a little bit faster and added motion from her hands into the mix. Pulling back to breathe for a moment, she wrapped her hand around him and began to pump with a seductive smirk on her lips._

_He licked his own when he saw how her lip gloss had smudged across her cheek._

_Without stopping the motion of her hand corkscrewing along his shaft, she twisted her head to lick the underside from base to tip before taking him deep into her mouth once more._

_A loud groan left his mouth and he flung an arm over his eyes. A throat being cleared reminded him where he was supposed to be facing and he brought it back down, winding the fingers of both hands back into her hair._

_With a pleased hum, she went back to the task at hand, speeding up and adding suction in a way that made him see stars. His thighs twitched and he almost managed to warn her of his impending orgasm, but the woman on her knees seemed to know before he did._

_She smiled up at him as he cried out, pulling her head roughly toward him. With another hum, she swallowed steadily around him and he moaned through the aftershocks that traveled up his spine and left him boneless._

_When he was cleaned up and had some amount of breath back in his body, he pushed himself away from the tree._

_“That was amazing.”_

_“Yeah?” She looked up at him, hopeful._

_He cleared his throat. “Yeah. You’re amazing, and you’re so pretty, and I really appreciate what you just did.”_

_She licked her lips and he was distracted momentarily._

_“But I’m still in love with someone else.”_

Hawkmoth yelled as loud as he could into the stillness of his sanctuary, realizing finally that the girl was the same one as the last useless akuma.

“ _How_ do I keep finding people that have strong enough emotions to akumatize, but refuse to acquire the Miraculouses?”

Recalling the butterfly as the girl stubbornly plopped herself in front of her computer with a pint of ice cream, he let out another bellow of frustration before searching again. He hoped he could block out an area anywhere near that particular girl this time.


	18. Love Square Part 3

**_A: Hey. Are you still awake?_ **

**_My Lady: Yeah. Need something?_ **

**_A: We’ve been talking for a while now and I really need to ask you something._ **

**_My Lady: Okay? Go ahead._ **

**_A: I really like you, but I don’t know if you feel the same way. It feels like you don’t see me sometimes._ **

**_My Lady: Is this a joke?_ **

**_A: No?_ **

**_My Lady: I do see you. Better than you know._ **

**_A: Then how do you not know how much I want to be with you?_ **

_He swallowed, watching the dots dance across the screen, starting and stopping. He waited, but the response never came._

**_A: Come over tonight. Give me one night and I’ll prove it. I’ll do anything you ask._ **

**_My Lady: Okay._ **

* * *

_Pacing the floor next to his window did nothing to help his nerves as he waited for her to arrive. Or maybe she wasn’t going to. Maybe she just said she was to get him to stop, maybe—_

_He jumped at the sound of something hitting the window, his spiral stopping abruptly._

_Opening it wide, he peeked outside to see her standing down below, grinning up at him. The light of the mansion was just enough for him to catch the outline of a gorgeous red Venetian mask across her face. His lungs filled with air again, color flooding back into his field of vision. He smiled back, feeling his hands shake with giddy excitement._

_He stepped back from the window to allow her the space to climb inside._

_Her head slammed against the window pane and she let out a loud screech before feeling a hand clamped down across her mouth. Helping her inside, he tilted her head back to check on the lump forming on her forehead._

_“I think it’ll be a small one.” He chuckled and kissed her injured head. “You’re so clumsy.”_

_Scrunching her nose at him did nothing but earn her another kiss, this time to her temple._

_“I know. I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to scream just now.” She laid her head against his chest and he was sure she could hear his heart stop. “I don’t hear footsteps though, maybe your bodyguard didn’t hear me?”_

_He nodded, bumping the top of her head with his chin. “That’s true, I think we’re in the clear this time.”_

_“Good, because I would hate to have to leave_ **_now_ ** _, I have business with you tonight.”_

 _A smirk began to spread across his face, going straight past intrigued to downright_ **_ravenous._ ** _He leaned in, nose almost brushing her own._

_“Oh really?”_

_She pushed him back by the nose, a smirk of her own forming on her lips._

_“Yes, I do. But you’re not driving tonight, so why don’t you have a seat.” She backed him up toward the computer chair near his desk, shoving his shoulders down so he plopped into the cushioned chair. He leaned his head back, breathing heavily._

_She grinned down at him, and pulled the jacket she’d arrived in slowly off her shoulders. The grin widened when she heard him suck in a breath at the lacy red lingerie she’d worn to come over. She placed both hands on the armrests, leaning over and deliberately allowing him to look down the flimsy top._

_And then, very deliberately, she turned the chair around so that the back was facing him, and straddled it, so that only the wire architecture of the black computer chair blocked him from her spread legs._

_He cleared his throat twice without managing to tear his eyes away from her._

_He raised his hand to her face gently, wanting to touch the mask she wore, but she caught him by the wrist, and pushed his arm backwards._

_“Now, now. We can’t have the paparazzi taking a look. You’re famous enough that announcing who I am makes headlines. And with those big windows, who even knows who’s watching?”_

_“Okay. Mask stays on. Am I allowed to touch you at all?”_

_Tapping a finger to her lips, she pretended to consider the request. “Hmmm. I suppose. But only where and when I say you can. And if I say stop, you stop.”_

_He nodded, head bobbing rapidly._

_“And if you don’t stop when I say, I leave the way I came in.”_

_“And if I obey?”_

_She bit her lip, a smile threatening to peek out. “_ **_If_ ** _you do well enough, handsome boy, I think you’ll get a prize.”_

_He shivered at the touch of her fingertips gliding down his arms and the giggle she let out when his muscles twitched slightly._

_She leaned forward, and his breath caught, as she murmured directly into his ear, and he was hypersensitive to the warmth of her breath and the implicit threat of her teeth. “If I go too far, or if you don’t want something, tell me and I’ll stop, but otherwise, you follow my orders tonight.”_

_He was a dork. He hoped she was a dork, too. “As you wish,” he murmured._

_She smirked. She’d gotten it. He was done for._

_“Okay. What are my instructions?”_

_She folded her arms on the top of the chair, and then leaned forward, pressing her breasts against them. It was pure magic that they didn’t spill out of the flimsy lace that could generously be called a bra._

_“Well, what are you hoping they are?”_

_He swallowed. This was going better than he had expected. Better than he had hoped. But he only needed one wrong step before everything crumbled around him into ashes, and with his luck, he didn’t trust himself to get through the night without making that one wrong step._

_“I thought you wanted to be in control…?” he asked, nervously._

_She licked her lips. “I want you to tell me, in excruciating detail, what you want me to do to you.”_

_I want to not know, he thought, helplessly. You consistently amaze and humble me- everything about you is as bold and brilliant as a person can be. How can I possibly decide, when everything about you is so much better than even my wildest fantasies?_

_She must have seen the way he paused, because she relented._

_"For the moment, why don’t you take this off for me,” she said, bringing her hand to the hem of his shirt, and tugging gently._

_His hands flew to the hem, he couldn’t get naked for her fast enough, but she swatted them away._

_“Not so fast. You said you would show me, right? Put on a show for me. You wear those clothes so well, I bet it’s fun to watch you take them off, too.”_

_Blushing furiously, he put a hand under the hem of his shirt, and pulled it off. For one terrifying moment, it was over his head, and he panicked- what if he looked like a idiot, what if she decided he looked like an idiot and it was a turn off, this was it, this was where it went wrong- but then it was gone, and she looked just as hungry as before._

_She stared at him expectantly, and the bottom fell out of his stomach._

_The pants. She wants me to take off the pants._

_His hands moved toward the button on his jeans. She cleared her throat, lifting one eyebrow._

_“Now, did I say you could take your pants off yet?”_

_His hands immediately went up by his head, eyes wide._

_She continued to just sit and look at him, as his pants got uncomfortably tight._

_“May I take off my pants, my lady?” he asked, eventually._

_“I’m savoring this moment. I want to be able to sketch you from memory,” she replied, a finger to her lips thoughtfully. She looked up from his chest, to meet his eyes with mischief. “Unless I’m allowed to take photos?”_

_“Please, no,” he whispered. If he was caught-_

_“A pity,” she purred. “I see so many photos of you, as is, it’d be nice to be able to complete the set. But you’ve told me where your boundaries are, and that deserves a reward. You may take your pants off, but leave the boxers.”_

_He breathed a_ **_thank you_ ** _before moving slowly to remove the garment. She watched with her lip between her teeth as his hips came off the chair so he could pull them down. Once they were pooled around his feet, he kicked them off to the side and waited with his wrists delicately placed on the armrests._

_“Good boy. Arms over your head, please.”_

_He raised both arms, grabbing the back of his chair behind his head._

_Stepping forward, she dragged her nails along the underside of his arms. She pressed his elbows higher until his chest lifted into the air. Smiling, she settled into his lap while carefully avoiding the prominent tent inside his boxers._

_His skin prickled in excitement, and he was sure he stopped breathing the moment she placed a slow, deliberate kiss in the center of his chest. He tightened his grip on the back of the chair._

_“Don’t move. You said you’d do anything.”_

_He struggled to gain control of his heart rate again, willing it to slow._

_“Honestly, I kind of thought you’d want me to take the lead.”_

_“I don’t hear you complaining.” Another kiss to his chest, slightly higher than the last one._

_“I’m definitely not going to, I’m enjoying this a_ **_lot.”_ ** _Licking his lips, he chanced a look down at her._

_She just smiled in reply. Taking his face between her hands, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He arched into her touch, knuckles going white on the chair behind him._

_Separating from him, her lips trailed to his ear. He shuddered at the feeling of her breath ghosting along the shell._

_“I think you’ve been a good boy. You may touch, but nowhere the lace covers.”_

_He pried his fingers from the back of his chair, flexing them to regain feeling before following her earlier motions and trailing the tips along her arms. Grinning at the shiver his motions elicited, he let them drag slowly up her neck, tilting it to the side._

_He feathered kisses up the column of her throat, nipping once at her jaw and chuckling at how she jumped unexpectedly._

_But when he did the same with her earlobe, he groaned instead as her movements put her directly in contact with the bulge she’d been studiously avoiding._

_She leaned forward, her voice a breathless whisper in his ear. “Did you like that, handsome boy? I think you did. Maybe I should give you another treat for being good.”_

_He opened his mouth to agree, but snapped it shut when she pressed herself down to grind against him._

_“I didn’t say you should stop touching.”_

_He swallowed, nodding frantically. Returning his fingers to their slow exploration of the skin that she had left exposed, he traced lines along her legs next. He skipped the section of her ribs that was covered, moving toward the keyhole that her lingerie left at the stomach._

_Her movements were slow and steady, but they made concentrating so much more difficult with every stroke she made along his clothed length. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to force himself to concentrate on the gentle patterns he drew along her skin._

_The satisfied smirk tilting her red lips at the corners wasn’t helping his situation any, either._

_He wasn’t sure how long it took her to reduce him to mush but he was certain it was mere moments. Her hips rolled along his and he had to gasp to bring any air into his lungs as she did her level best to wreck him._

_“Alright handsome boy, I think you’ve been_ **_very_ ** _good and deserve your reward.”_

_Slipping out of his lap, she stood and bit her lip as she looked down at him. He closed his eyes, desperate to compose himself somewhat. When he opened them, he nearly swallowed his tongue._

_She was bent over in front of him, rummaging in the bag she’d brought with her. His eyes trailed from her red heels and up long legs to her backside, prominently displayed so he’d be sure to see the delicately tied bow that rested above a heart cutout._

_His eyes slammed closed again as he reminded himself that she wasn’t_ **_actually_ ** _a present all wrapped up just for him._

_“Ready for your reward?”_

_His eyes cracked open, and he was reassured that she’d turned back around to face him. He stared for a moment, trying to figure out what she’d brought with her. And his eyes widened when he managed to identify the rather large strap-on she was holding._

_“Oh god, yes please.”_

* * *

He didn’t make it to the window before Hawkmoth pulled his Akuma back, then swore immediately- without the connection, he couldn’t track where the Akuma had been sent. He released his transformation, and silently left the room to make a call to his house security. 

“Someone please ensure Adrien is in his room and doesn’t have any visitors. Quickly.”

After the bodyguard had left, Nooroo frowned thoughtfully.

"It's kind of you to check on Adrien," he said. "You should do that more often. He misses his father."

Gabriel hadn't realized he was pacing until he had to stop.

"Finally, I may have Ladybug in my grasp- but at what cost?"

* * *

_When he finally managed to drag himself back out of the sleepy, comfortable haze he’d drifted off into, he snuggled close to the woman in his bed. He hugged her to his chest, kissing the back of her neck._

_Only to jump when she bolted upright in bed, eyes wide in horror as she stared down at him._

_“Oh my god, I’ve made a mistake.”_

_Panic rose in his stomach. “What?”_

_“I shouldn’t have done this, I’m so sorry.”_

_He struggled to leave the bed, tangling his limbs in the sheets and falling to the floor. She gathered her clothes and shoved everything into the bag before heading to the window._

_“I’m so sorry. It’s not fair to you for me to do this. I have to go.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can guess why this arc ends on LadyNoir, she'll let you take off your pants.


	19. Love Square Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was ready. She was sure. Tonight was the night.  
> Hawkmoth has had enough.  
> 

He was as ready as he could be. Tonight was the night.

On a deserted rooftop, where they had a reasonable guarantee of privacy, he lit the last candle, where they perched above a rail alternating with small bunches of red roses. The sky was clear, and the warm, golden light of the most romantic city in the world did not dim the sparkle of a million stars against a velvet sky. No more jokes, no more hiding behind friendship and shying away, trying to make himself approachable. She wanted him- she wanted at least one of him. He hugged his black leather jacket to himself, and waited. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she might love him.

She wore red.

It probably wouldn’t matter, she knew him, she trusted him. She was pretty sure this was what she wanted. School had been a disaster, and she’d made her peace with how her crush had resolved- but she’d been blind to the person who had always been by her side, who she could be comfortable with. He wanted to meet tonight. She had no reason to believe he didn’t just want to hook up. But she had found her confidence, and if she was going to be brave, it would be easier if she wore red.

Hawkmoth had had enough.

If Leather Fetish and Gymnast were going to play stupid games, they had better get ready to win stupid prizes- or have their _stupid_ prizes taken from them mid-coitus, for all he cared. He could easily have sent a butterfly to hide on their cliche balcony of sexual poor decisions, and _make_ them a two-backed beast as they were making the two-backed beast, but they had drained the very last of his patience and he wanted to see their faces as he ripped their Kwamis-cursed Miraculouses away from them and _finally_ ended his torment.

It was a testament to their hope and their nervousness that he could feel it at all above the secondhand arousal, smelling like the bedroom of a nineteen year old who has gotten into their older relatives’ stash of Viagra and dollar-store petroleum lube.

He hated leaving the house, but this was worth it.

He threw up in his mouth a little, as he watched them attempt to eat the faces off each other, covering each other with saliva in a way that broadcast to even people who were not wielding the Butterfly Miraculous that these were French teenagers who have only fifteen minutes ago heard that French kissing is supposed to use tongue, but was unspecific in what, exactly, the tongues were supposed to be doing.

Maybe, when he Akumatized them, he would let them keep their memories of how to be good at sex. The trade would be more than fair.

He didn’t even care what “ _It was you, all along?”_ was supposed to mean.

Hawkmoth cleared his throat loudly, and tapped his cane on the ground twice.

They shrieked.

Immediately, she turned around, and picked up her dress from the ground, using it to cover as much of herself as possible and thoroughly ripping the lace as it was dragged against the tiles of the roof. He leaped out in front of her, which, of course, made his penis swing wildly about, christening glove-tanned leather with precum, which would have been a tragedy if Hawkmoth did not have the sneaking suspicion that protecting it from cum while belonging to this particular teenager would be a losing battle.

“Do you mind?!?!?” the young man shouted. “We were in the middle of something important.”

“I don’t care. I have, _likewise,_ been in the middle of something very important, not that you have known or cared, or ever stopped to worry about oversharing with me before. But we have reached the end of our story. Surrender your Miraculouses.”

The teens looked at each other.

“I’m really sorry,” she said, biting her lip slightly, “I know that I had told you I would bring them to you if you Akumatized me, but I just got so _distracted-_ ”

“Wait, when were you Akumatized?” he interrupted.

She shrugged. “Um-”

His eyes widened dramatically. “You were-”

She used her elbows to hold the dress up, and covered her eyes in shame.

“Macie, I hadn’t wanted to tell you, _I_ was Akumatized-”

“Wait, when-” she picked her head up from her hands, and stared at him in awe. For the first time, Hawkmoth noticed that her earlobes were empty. “ _You were-”_

 _“The Miraculouses,”_ Hawkmoth insisted.

“We don’t have them,” he repeated.

“Fine,” Hawkmoth snapped. “If you don’t have them, _go get them,”_ and he cast his mind out, looking for any emotion strong enough to Akumatize. There were two of them, resonating so well, and at this point, he would take anything.

The only one he could find was **_TRIUMPH_ **, ringing loud and true, coming not from the teens in front of him, but directly behind him-

He jumped, just in time to avoid a yo-yo.

* * *

Master Fu steepled his fingers, and considered Ladybug and Chat Noir.

“You are doing an admirable job, young heroes,” he protested, quietly. “You would be hard pressed to find anyone in Paris who disagrees. You were chosen for a reason, and I am not sure why, after so many months of victory, you have so much doubt in yourselves.”

Chat Noir stared at the surface of his tea. It had been hard enough for him to admit defeat, so Ladybug had promised to do most of the talking.

“It’s not just about whether we win or lose,” Ladybug said, sighing heavily. “The _how_ also matters.”

“You are spreading hope and encouragement throughout Paris, and we are all the better for your being here-”

Ladybug looked up, and her gaze was steely.

“The other day,” she said, “A man inserted a light bulb into his anus. He claims that it was the shape he was looking for-”

“Or he wanted to see if Hawkmoth would Akumatize him into a firefly,” Chat Noir muttered.

“But why doesn’t matter. The only reason I know about this is that light bulbs neither have flared bases for easy removal, nor are they structurally sound enough to withstand the pressure of the average human anus, especially not one that has been… distorted. Light bulbs are made of very thin glass, and it had started to crack. The only reason I know _that_ , is that apparently he was so afraid and ashamed about it, that Hawkmoth sent him a butterfly. Now, I won’t recap the powers Ass Crack had, and I can’t fathom to guess why Hawkmoth might have thought he would be useful for stealing the Miraculouses. It didn’t matter. We fought him, we won, we pounded it, and I sent up a Miraculous Cure. The Miraculous Cure fixes _everything_ , including the light bulb in the man’s anus. But it did not remove the light bulb. And, caving under the pressure of the average human anus so distorted, it began to crack.”

“We fought Ass Crack a hundred and twenty times,” Chat Noir told Master Fu, looking haunted. “Do you know how many heroes it takes to screw in a light bulb? Because I’m afraid to ask.”

“And as illuminating an experience as it was,” Ladybug agreed, “we are children. We are children and Hawkmoth is an adult and a _pervert_ and he is weaponizing the fact that he is an adult and we are children to put us in situations that we should not be in. We are young and reasonably smart and if our neighbors are pouring popping candy under their foreskins or playing anal bead tug of war or just really, really concerned with rehoming their genital crabs as humanely as possible and without killing any of them. This really isn’t something that should be at all our problem, or even something we should be aware of yet. I just want to focus on teaching Paris how to handle their strong emotions, and then go back to class and be a normal girl with a normal life, as much as I can. Hawkmoth can’t win when he fight fair, so he’s started fighting dirty, and it’s getting really, _really_ dirty.”

Master Fu took a moment to blow on his tea, and then sipped it delicately.

“If you agree, I will take the Miraculouses back,” he said, gently. “However, be warned, that if I do, Hawkmoth will have a massive advantage: he will have had practice with his powers, and the new heroes will be new. Ladybug, I have, on multiple occasions, asked you to pick an ally you can trust to fight alongside you on your missions. Chat Noir, if you reconsider your choice to give up your Miraculous, I will soon begin to ask you the same. But before you do- I must ask you a more important question, possibly the _most_ important question. I will not ask you to pick an ally you trust more than yourselves- it is natural and human for one’s trust in oneself to waver in the face of serious adversity. Instead, I ask you- are there allies that you trust more than each other?”

Ladybug and Chat Noir stared at each other, stricken.

Neither wanted to be the first to speak, so Master Fu sipped the last of his tea, and reclined.

“Besides,” he said, lightly. “You both have access to the internet. You were going to encounter this kind of thing sooner or later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Marinette and Adrien are fourteen, they're not going to be having sex in this story.


	20. You Give Me Butterflies (In My Stomach)

_ It had been a long, miserable day, and she didn’t want to think about it any more. _

_ She had a place of her own, of course. It was small and tastefully but minimally decorated, with very few personal effects; she was in it rarely after all. But with the newly round-the-clock nature her job was starting to take on, she was staying at a small guest bedroom in the massive mansion so often she was starting to wonder why she bothered paying the mortgage. Tonight, the deadline had been met, the proofs had been submitted, and she retired to her room exhausted but with no further obligations for the evening. _

_ She slipped out of her pumps first, flexing her shins and wiggling her toes from the sharp points. Her blazer found a home on a hanger in the coat closet, and she rolled her shoulders, trying to stretch the tension out. _

_ “Let me help with that,” came a quiet voice, that made her feel at home, and she smiled, relaxing into the familiar touch of her lover’s hands on her shoulders, massaging at her collarbones, shoulder blades, over the material of her sweater, then running his knuckles gently on either side of her spine. _

_ He found her bra strap over the surface of her sweater, and she sighed happily, melting into his touch as he unhooked it to massage at the deep tissues of her back, finding knots and mingling pain and pleasure as he worked them loose. She bent forward slightly, un-tucking the back of her sweater, and his hands reached up and under it. _

_ “My muscles are sore on my front, too,” she murmured. “Could you work those?” _

_ He chuckled quietly, his hands meandering, caressing her stomach, her sternum, until he found her breasts, and began to knead at them. She leaned forward further, chasing his touch, and the gentle dance and pressure of her butt against the front of his trousers was making him deliciously hard. _

_ “Take off your slacks,” he murmured, his breath warm on her ear, his lips tickling her gently, and she smiled. _

_ “I’m off the clock for the day,” she murmured. “My boss told me I didn’t have to take any more assignments from him. I’m afraid he’ll have to do it himself.” _

_ He laughed, and took his hands from her breasts. She whined quietly in protest, as he unbuckled his own belt, then undid his pants. “I’m afraid I’m helpless without my assistant,” he smiled. “Could you give me more specific instructions?” _

_ “Undress me,” she begged. “Bend me over. Take me from behind, against the wall. Put your hands back on my breasts, on my hips. I’ve been working so hard, for you, just for you, always for you, for so long; help me relax.” _

_ “If you insist,” he said, and his hands at her waistline, then, with a violence she would not have guessed by looking at his hands, he ripped them open, popping the button closure so that it hit the wall and rolled out of sight. These seams, he knew intimately- how to conceal them, and how to make them undone. He pushed them down, but not all the way; they got stuck halfway down her thighs, binding them together in a way that would leave a proud red mark. _

_ He rubbed at her underwear gently for a moment, feeling her arousal soaking it, but didn’t bother to remove it; instead, he just pushed the fabric at the crotch roughly to the side, and buried his penis in her vagina in one smooth movement. _

_ She cried out, unused to the pressure, the warmth, but he kissed her and stole the sound before it could be overheard. _

_ His thrusts were erratic, rough, deep; his hands greedy on her body, and she leaned heavily against the wall, seeking stability as he ravished her, seeking anything solid as her pleasure threatened to overwhelm her. His knees on the inside of hers established dominance and control; she was safe here she could relax, she would come to no harm. One hand continued to knead at her breasts, pinching and rolling gently at each nipple; the other had found her clitoris and echoed and amplified the movement. _

_ “Harder,” she whispered. “Oh gods, more.” _

_ He took her hips, slamming her against his thrusts, now, and the slacks had fallen from her thighs to pool around her ankles, the slap of his undone belt cool and sinful against her sensitive skin, his length deep, powerful, sure. _

_ And then he withdrew, spun her, knelt, found her clitoris again, and sucked, and despite her eyes closed in bliss, she saw white. _

_ He carried her to bed, gently, like he loved her, while she took a moment to recover, and turned as if to leave, but she caught his hand. _

_ “Come here, she murmured, pulling him close, and got out of bed again, legs still wobbly, and knelt to drop his iconic red pants further. _

_ “Are you sure you’re up to it?” he asked, as she began to stroke him gently. “This is about you. You’ve done so much for me, today, already.” _

_ Nathalie smiled back up at Gabriel sinfully, affectionately. “You’ve been giving me butterflies in my stomach for months, now,” she murmured, her lips, her tongue tickling his scrotum. “I can’t even tell you, how much I’ve wanted them literally.” _

_ It was his turn to groan, when she put his penis in her mouth, her tongue stroking him gently as his head began to kiss the back of her throat. _

* * *

Nathalie woke up in her own bed, alone, in her pajamas, and in a cold sweat.

“Oh, no,” she breathed.

* * *

In the master bedroom, Gabriel lay, stiff as a board, eyes wide, and tried to pretend he hadn’t Felt all of that.

“You should talk to her,” Nooroo suggested gently.

“No.”

“If it pleases you,  _ I _ might go out into the house, and talk to her…?”

“You will breathe no word of this to any other living soul.”


	21. I am ready to debrief at your earliest convenience

_“The only way anyone in Paris is having remotely satisfying sex is if they’re fucking Hawkmoth.”_

The statement had definitely challenged Nathalie’s poker face, but ultimately, not defeated it. Audrey was a tastemaker, but she had been wrong before.

_“The only person who can make me come is Hawkmoth.”_

He had an unfair advantage, of course. What lover wouldn’t be able, with detailed information about everything their partner was feeling, to lean in to what was positively reinforced, and to turn missteps into being consciously, deliciously wrong? What asshole wouldn’t pay attention and prioritize that information?

Besides, Nathalie was a professional. She had no time to date, not when she was married to her job. To her _job_ , and _not_ to her boss, who was very, _very_ married to his wife. Who was missing. And he was missing _her_ , so _very_ much, that he was having episodes every few hours and she was making his excuses so that he could have his private time until he could tuck his Nooroo discreetly away again and everyone could pretend he didn’t have an erection.

She wasn’t sure at what point the Pavlovian conditioning had kicked in, that the only one who could coax an orgasm out of anyone in Paris, and who was available to anyone in need, was Gabriel Agreste. The very same Gabriel Agreste who, to her misfortune, she found herself in the presence of, on average, fourteen hours a day.

She hadn’t even realized she had these needs at all. After all, the few times in the past in which she had tried sex, the experience had been underwhelming enough that she had never really been sure what the big deal was about. She had shrugged, deciding that maybe sex just wasn’t for her.

It had been years.

Gabriel had not yet been Hawkmoth.

_The only way that her lovers could have satisfied her is if Gabriel had helped them._

There was no one in Paris qualified to handle her HR emergency.

It was only through sheer force of practice that Nathalie managed to retain her poker face as she arrived, as usual, at 5a to the offices to begin her day, determined to be a professional to the full extent possible. Hawkmoth felt the negative emotions of Paris, after all, and if she Felt anything like the shame she had Felt last night-

\- the shame she had felt last night -

She paused, mid-step.

He knew. He already knew.

He knew, and she knew he knew, and he knew she knew he knew, and Gabriel’s household does not talk about their problems, they pretend that everything is normal, even when it is abundantly clear it is not.

With the very last remaining shreds of her dignity, she steeled herself to continue her five-minute walk, which remained the longest commute of her professional life.

* * *

Gabriel looked up from his tablet, to see Nathalie silently slide to her desk, sit in her chair, and turn on her tablet.

_I do not wish to see your penis, Mr. Agreste-_

“I am going to spend some time in the atrium,” he murmured quietly. “Please do not disturb me there.”

“No, sir,” Nathalie murmured, her voice a little drier, as all of the moisture in her body had headed south.

“Nathalie,” Gabriel murmured, and he sounded just like he had last night, and her focus was impossible.

“Yes, sir?”

“Please do not disturb me when I am in the atrium,” he repeated, enunciating it clearly, and looking at her with gravity.

She swallowed.

“I’ll try.”


End file.
